


Fangthane's Folly

by orphan_account



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Titan Fighting Fantasy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Abusive Parents, Character Death, F/M, Family Relationships - Freeform, Fantasy Classism, Fantasy Demon summoning, Fantasy Demon worship, Fantasy Politics, Fantasy Racism, Fantasy Religion, Fantasy Religious schism, Mental Health Issues, Pregnancy, false imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26577667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fangthane has been the shining beacon of Dwarvenkind upon Titan for millennia, but the aftermath of the Demon Wars over ten years prior has left the city-state with wounds that have only barely begun to heal. Tensions that have been simmering within her populace have finally reached boiling point, spurred on by the racist attacks upon the dwarves living in the City-State of Toreguarde. Even though the dread Necromancer, Darkhide, has been defeated and his armies routed, the woes of the dwarven people are far, far from over. Darkness may lie in the hearts of men, but the darkness that lies in the hearts of dwarves is far, far darker.
Relationships: Gruk Ironforge-Morag Ironforge, Meredith Gruksdottir-Yoruk Copperheart, Mother-Son
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

The morning broke dark and gloomy, the sun barely able to eke out any brightness to light up the golden cap of Fangthane, which was unusual for the middle of Reaping. Suddenly the clouds broke and dull thunder echoed over the plains around the mountain. The Dwarves living inside the mountain continued about their usual morning business, unaware of the weeping clouds for the moment as forges were lit and kettles boiled. In the upper reaches of the mountain the Cathedral of Kherillim’s bell tolled out, announcing the beginning of morning prayers for those living and working within. Jotunn Ragnarsson, High Priest of Moradin, frowned as he strode down the narrow corridors to the Chamber of Contemplation deep below the main cathedral. A deep uneasiness had settled in the pit of his stomach when he had awoken and, while it was not an unusual occurrence given the recent war with the Kobold king Torg, it had not yet abated. Indeed as the High Priest continued on his path, his uneasiness only continued to grow. Jotunn finally stopped in front of the impressive golden door that led into the Contemplation Chamber and attempted to calm his frantic thoughts and thundering heart. He smiled slightly as he felt the warm and comforting touch of Moradin’s presence, though he still did not feel entirely at ease as the touch seemed almost… sad. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the stout dwarf steeled his nerves and pushed the massive golden door open, shielding his eyes as the light of the molten gold within the huge scrying pool set into the floor beset them. After taking a moment to adjust to the change, the High Priest cast his gaze around the huge room, finally settling on a slumped, still form at the edge of the pool of molten metal. Forgetting all sense of his usual decorum, Jotunn rushed to the older dwarf’s side, his heart dropping the moment he began to move. Archlector Kargunn Vanskleig, the most venerable dwarf under the mountain of Fangthane even now gently held his staff of office in his grip as his gaze still lingered on the scrying pool as the High Priest of Moradin knelt at his side, frantically checking for any sign of life in the old dwarf. A few moments later, Ragnarsson gently closed the Archlector’s eyes for the last time and bowed his head in silent prayer.

Every last dwarf under the mountain and even those working in the fields right outside stopped what they were doing the moment the Bell of Deep rang out its dolorous tone. Most were simply confused, it was rare for the bell to toll more than once every couple of centuries, never mind thrice in a little over a decade. For those closest to the heart of the matter, however, the tolling came as first a shock, then a wave of combined grief as the High Priest of Moradin confirmed their worst fears. The loss of so many during the Demon Wars still weighed heavy and the war with the kobolds under King Torg had exacted an even heavier toll on the already beleaguered dwarven people. To add the loss of the Highest of High Priests seemed to be almost too much for the people of Fangthane to bear in such a short space of time. King Storri, however, was determined that life, as difficult as it had become as of late, would carry on.

The Council Chamber was in an uproar as the members of the Fangthane Council debated what on Titan was going to happen,

“Why are we even surprised by this, the man was practically ancient even by oor standards.”

“Did he even have a successor in mind?”

“Oh come on, we a’ ken Ragnarsson’s goin’ tae take up the position, just makes sense don’t it?”

“Ye gone senile auld man? That’s no’ how it works.”

“Shut yer blowhole ye wee scallywag, nae-one alive kens how this is gonnae work! Been o’er eight hunner years since onyone last had tae sort this sort o’ mess oot.”

“Och, ye dafties, ye forgettin’ we’ve still got a’ the records o’ whit happened last time?. Besides there’s a whole section dedicated tae this situation in the Book o’ Moradin.”

Ragnarsson sighed heavily as he watched the other dwarves bicker and argue amongst themselves, it seemed the passing of Vanskleig had released the valve that had been holding back the rush of fear and anxiety that had pervaded the halls of Fangthane for the last ten years. Dwarves, generally, did not deal with sudden change very well and had a tendency to work in timescales of decades and centuries rather than months and years. The priest was startled from his musings by a gentle hand on his shoulder,

“I’m sorry Jotunn, I didn’t realise just how lost in thought you were.” The dwarf turned to look at who was speaking and smiled hollowly at the High Priest of Galana,

“Ach, ‘tis nae worry Edwin, it does neither dwarf nor man nae guid tae get lost in his ain thoughts fer too long.” he replied, casting his gaze back over the rest of the Council with a frown. Edwin followed his gaze and shook his head,

“It’s all a bit of a mess right now isn’t it?” he mused. Jotunn snorted,

“Tha’s puttin’ it a bit mildly lad, but I get whit ye’re sayin’.” he replied, “Still, we’ve weathered worse, this will pass like a’ the others eventually.” Edwin nodded, settling back into his seat as much as he was able. Eventually, the hubbub in the chamber died down as King Storri, young Princess Garni at his side, strode to his usual place and laid Račun to the side of his throne. His guardsman tapped the end of his warhammer on the ground, silencing the other dwarves. Storri nodded to him and remained standing as he addressed the room,

“The passing of Archlector Vanskleig has dealt us another mighty blow even as we attempt to recover from the war with King Torg and his armies. I am more than aware that many under the mountain, and even beyond, doubt whether we as a people can continue to weather the storm that even still batters at our gates. However, I remain confident that we can and will endure We have successfully pushed back the invasion attempt from under our feet and can now…”

“Aye, wi’ the help o’ outsiders, and those were fi Toreguard besides!” an angry voice erupted, causing all of the dwarves and the lone human in the room to turn and stare at the individual in question. Ragnarsson snorted as he saw the High Inquisitor of Moradin rise to his feet, his bright ginger beard almost blazing in the dim torchlight, “Aye, I’ve nae doobt we kin weather the storm as ye say, but a’ that wee stunt did wis make us look weak!” he shouted. Storri, to his credit, met the blazing glare of the older dwarf,

“Forgive me High Inquisitor Firetome, but I will have tae disagree.” he replied levelly, “The opportunity arose tae take advantage o’ a situation that wid save the lives o’ a guid number o’ dwarves. Lives that we canna afford tae lose when a’ the reports we’ve received suggest that there’s worse tae come.” Firetome snorted,

“Oh aye, it saved a load o’ lives in the short term, I’ll grant ye, but fi whit I understand, they never finished the job and now we get tae deal wi’ a Lich leadin’ an army fu’ o’ Death Knights instead! Tell me, Yer Majesty, is that really better than how things would hae turned oot withoot their interference?” Jotunn and Edwin glanced at each other nervously as a frightened whisper rushed through the chamber. Storri looked over to where the head of the Moradjar Paladins now stood, glaring daggers at the Inquisitor,

“An’ fi whit I understand o’ the situation, we’d be dealin’ wi’ this regardless since this wis Darkhide’s plan a’ along!” he snapped. Firetome scoffed,

“Ye say that, but who wis it that brought that maniac’s attention upon us in the first place?” he sneered, “S’far as I kin tell, Darkhide wis perfectly content tae terrorise jus’ Toreguard until we got involved in their affairs.” he sneered, directing his attention back to King Storri, whose glare had softened a little as he considered the other dwarf’s words. Ragnarsson growled slightly as he rose,

“Ye’re forgettin’ yer place Firetome!” he snapped, “That we got involved wi’ Toreguard wis the Will o’ Moradin Hissel’! Or are ye arrogant enough tae believe that you ken better than the Dwarf Faither?” he asked. The room immediately hushed as everyone looked between the High Priest and the High Inquisitor of Moradin. Firetome’s glare deepened,

“Of course not!” he snapped, “What I question was why we allowed the outsiders inside our mountain in the first place.”

“You ken damn well that ours is no’ tae question the will o’ the Gods Firetome. Sit back doon afore ye embarrass yersel’ ony more!” The Inquisitor’s glare deepened, but he slowly sat back down in his seat crossing his arms over his chest with a muttered grumble. Ragnarsson bowed towards the young king,

“Ma apologies Yer Highnesses, that was an outburst that should never hae occurred. Carry on” he said, sitting back down himself with a weary sigh. Edwin gave him a concerned look and leaned over as the King regathered his wits about him,

“Well that’s going to get the whole mountain talking, make no mistake there. I hope you know what you’re doing by pulling rank on this guy.” he said quietly. Jotunn grumbled slightly,

“I’m hoping so too. The last thing we need richt noo is a major schism.” Edwin nodded sympathetically and returned his gaze to the King, who had started talking again,

“Well, however this turns out, I’ll be happy to back you up if you need it.” he said quietly. Jotunn smiled quietly,

“Ta laddie, I rather get the feelin’ I’m gonnae need it.”

King Storri looked around the room and sighed heavily,

“While these are indeed tryin' times, I am still confident that we will endure as we a'ways have and come oot the other end stronger than before.” he concluded. He glanced up towards the High Priest of Moradin, “High Priest Ragnarsson, we understand that, traditionally, the Archlector chooses a successor to his position in advance of his passing. However, we have heard nought of this from the Cathedral’s clergy.” Jotunn clenched his jaw as he stood again, he was not looking forward to this,

“If ye’ll fergive ma candidness Yer Highnesses, Archlector Vanskleig never named a successor. It wis his belief that the position should ultimately be o’ Moradin’s an’ Kherillim’s choosin’.” He paused for a moment while a confused whispering sprang up. Storri’s Kingsguard tapped his warhammer on the floor and the rush of noise stopped. The young King gestured for the Cleric to elaborate, Jotunn swallowed heavily,

“While I am masel’ uncertain as tae how he believed that this would become apparent, there are still procedures in place tae elect a new Archlector should the previous pass afore namin’ the next.” he added. KIng Storri nodded in understanding,

“I see.” he said, steepling his fingers as he thought the matter over. After a few moments of contemplation he nodded, “Are we tae understand then that the matter will be dealt with by the Religious Council alone?” he asked, glancing around the room. High Priest Ragnarsson nodded,

“Aye Yer Highness t’will be.” he confirmed, “It may, however, take some time fer us tae come tae a full agreement on the matter. It has been well o’er five generations since this situation last occurred.” At this an elderly dwarf sitting nearer the front of the stands pulled himself up, pushing his spectacles back up his nose,

“The main Library still contains records o’ that precise situation. If it wid help the Religious Council come tae a conclusion that wee bit faster, I can arrange fer those records tae be found and handed o’er temporarily.” he suggested. Jotunn nodded gratefully,

“T’would be a great help if ye could Master Haneskeeper.” he replied, “Aifter a’, the sooner we get this sorted oot, the sooner we can a’ concentrate on the matters tryin’ tae bash oor gates in.” King Storri nodded in satisfaction,

“Then I may as well call this Session tae a close. Unless there are ony other matters that require our immediate attention?” he asked. Upon hearing no answer, he gently tapped Račun on the floor and stood, his daughter quickly following suit and both exited the chamber, closely followed by their Guard. Jotunn frowned as he watched High Inquisitor Firetome turn to the High Priest of St. Cuthbert, both of their expressions unhappy as they filed out along with the rest of the dwarves in the room. Edwin laid a hand on Jotunn’s shoulder, redirecting his attention,

“Come my friend, I think we both need a chance to unwind after that.” the human glanced up in the direction the other High Priest had been looking, “While Firetome’s attitude is somewhat concerning, I wouldn’t let it worry you.” Jotunn grumbled into his beard and shook his head,

“Ye ken fine weel it’s no’ just Firetome wi’ that attitude.” he retorted quietly, “I’m just hopin’ that this latest catastrophe willnae result in a’thing blowin’ up on us.” Edwin nodded sympathetically as the two of them made their to the streets outside,

“I know, but unless and until that happens, there’s not too much point in worrying over it.” he pointed out, “Come, you look and sound like you need a stiff drink and I have a friend who will be more than happy to ply you with large quantities of good, strong ale.” Edwin grinned as that finally earned him a chuckle,

“Well, if ye’re payin’ I might as well take ye up on the offer.” he joked, gesturing for the human to lead the way. The High Priest of Galana sighed as he started off down towards the market district of the city,

“I’m not making any promises.” he retorted with a smirk.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news of the attacks on the dwarven citizens of Toreguarde finally make their way back to Fangthane, along with a flood of refugees, prompting discussions about Fangthane's relationship with the other city-state. The people living in Fangthane try to get on with everyday life, while others think of ways to take advantage of the situation.

When the first refugees began arriving from Toreguard, speaking of the horrific events that had led to their departure from the city, few really believed it. As the next two months went on, however, the fire that had been smouldering in the depths of the Dwarven Capital, now roared into life. Former High Inquisitor Skarld Firetome was quickly elected to the position of Archlector by the Religious Council following a gruesome attack on innocent dwarves by deranged humans hired to get rid of competition for the human merchants of the city. Calls went up all over the mountain to just close the damned gates and let the humans sort themselves out. Other, more extreme voices, called for retribution against the other city for the lives lost. For the moment however, more moderate voices had won out and the people of Fangthane waited to see what would happen once Darkhide had been defeated. There were those within the mountain, however, who took the opportunity of the current unease to further their own agendas.

Firetome regarded the woman sitting across the table from him, as she poured them both a shot of firewater,

“Tell me, my dear, whit interest have you in backin’ Grimbeard in his bid tae become High Inquisitor?” he asked, “It is ma understandin’ that you are fi a family that is far too high in the social peckin’ order tae hae ony interest in him or his family.” The other dwarf handed him the shot glass and leaned back in her chair,

“I heard o’ his report o’ the goin’s on in Toreguard of late.” she replied easily taking a sip of her drink. The mythrill bands in her hair and beard glinted in the torchlight as she shifted in her seat, “Let’s just say I hae an interest in those goin’s on.” she added coyly. Firetome steepled his fingers and leaned forward,

“And whit is it that interests ye so much, if I may ask.” he said, narrowing his eyes. The woman snorted lightly,

“It’s not so much what as who Archlector.” she replied, “Fi what I understand, Grimbeard said he wis chased oot o’ Toreguard, no’ by the humans exactly, but by one o’ the Temple’s ain.” Firetome’s eyes narrowed further,

“I ken not how ye came tae know such information, Ionah, but we are currently awaiting a report fi Starhammer regardin’ the situation afore we tak’ ony action on it.” he replied. The woman nodded sympathetically,

“Of course, such accusations either way need tae be taken seriously and given a great deal of time tae sort oot.” she said, “I’m just wonderin’ whit’s gonnae happen when word gets oot aboot it.” Firetome snorted and smirked,

“A’right, enough with the sly coyness Mrs Gilhadsson. Ye made sair tae come here in the middle o’ the night, so whit’s the catch?” Ionah smiled triumphantly as she pulled out a roll of parchment,

“Ye want tae be sair that onything that comes oot o’ these accusations against Grimbeard doesnae come back on you?” she asked, rolling the parchment across the table to him, “This should be mair than enough tae assuage ony fears ye have aboot onyone takin’ the lassie seriously.” Frowning Firetome unrolled the parchment and looked at both sheafs, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he did so. Ionah leaned back in her chair with a satisfied grin, running her fingers through the braids in her beard. Firetome put the sheafs of parchment back on the table,

“A’right then, whit is it ye really want?” he asked. The woman shrugged lazily,

“The same thing you do Archlector.” she replied simply, “I know what it is you really plan to do, and I actually rather approve of it.” she smiled demurely, “Allow me a seat on the Council and I promise that I can more than make it worth your while.” Firetome read over the two sheafs of parchment again and considered the woman’s proposition. After a few moments, he nodded,

“Very well then.” he agreed, “Fer now I think our main priority is ensurin’ that naeone believes the accusations against Grimbeard. That shouldnae be hard, things have been a wee bit… muddied o’ late.” Ionah nodded,

“I’ll leave that part in yer capable hands then. But whit aboot the girl?” she asked. Firetome stroked his beard thoughtfully,

“That’s a wee bit harder.” he muttered, “We canna just ootright arrest the lassie, she’s been clearly favoured by Moradin fer a while an’ He might still hae enough power tae intervene if we’re too obvious.” Ionah clucked her tongue again,

“More’s the pity.” she sighed, “Ony way we can help speed things along a bit?” she asked. Firetome tapped his chin thoughtfully, a dark smile slowly creeping across his face,

“Actually, ma dear, I do believe there is.” he replied, “Meet wi’ me doon in the catacombs in three days an’ see if ye canna find some other Apostles tae bring wi’ ye.” Ionah mirror the smile, got up and bowed,

“I’ll see whit I can dae Archlector. Thank ye fer yer hospitality.” she added, sweeping out of the little office. Once she was gone, Firetome tucked the parchment she had given him into a drawer and locked it tightly. He pulled out a metal symbol, of an eye encompassed by two draconic wings and regarded it triumphantly,

“Dinna worry Master, ye’ll soon be able tae take tha power that’s rightfully yours, we’ll make sure o’ that.”

~*~

Gruk sighed as he took another gulp of his pint. A younger dwarf with very similar features though with a darker beard that was sitting across the table frowned in concern,

“Whit’s troublin’ ye Da?” he asked, “Ye’ve no’ been this quiet since Uncle Snorri came back withoot Alfie and Magni in tow.” he pointed out. The smith grunted,

“How aboot everythin’?” he retorted, “Word in the vein is tha’ Torg’s armies hae been pulled awa’ fi Fangthane tae march on Toreguard instead an’ apparently we’re daein’ nuthin’ aboot it.” The younger man made a concerned noise in his throat,

“I ken ye’re worried aboot her Da, but Merri can take care o’ hersel’ just fine.” he soothed, “Besides, ye said she had a guid group o’ folk aroond her, they’ll make sair she’s a’right.” Gruk sent his son a wan smile,

“It’s no’ just that Dugald, it’s a’thing else that’s been goin’ on back here.” he took another swig of his ale before carrying on, “It worries me that we’re gettin’ sae insular again.” Dugald nodded in sympathy,

“Aye, Uncle Ufgi wis sayin’ the same thing. This attitude is nae guid fer more general business, though he is gettin’ a load o’ work through fer now.” Gruk frowned,

“Aye, I’ve been busier than usual wi’ requests fi the Ironguard lately. Figured it wis just because o’ the fight wi’ the Kobolds.”

“We thought so an’ a’, especially gi’en that maist o’ our work is comin’ fi the Moradjar, but seein’ as the Kobolds have a’ buggered off ye’d think we’d be slowin’ doon by noo.” The frown on the older dwarf’s face deepened,

“Ye’re no’?” he asked. Dugald shook his head,

,p>“We jus’ got another order in fer another hunner or so items. We’re tryin’ tae speed up the trainin’ o’ the new apprentices just tae keep up, but ye can only teach runesmithin’ sae fast.” Gruk grumbled into his mug, an annoyed look crossing his face as he realised it was empty. He placed the item on the table and crossed his arms over his chest instead,

“Aye, takin’ shortcuts is pretty dangerous, a coupla laddies apprenticin’ doon the road just aboot lost their arms because auld Kerrin decided tae ‘speed things along’. I’m assumin’ it’s a load worse if there’s magic involved.”

“Aye, we’ve never had one yet, but Uncle Ufgi insists on daein’ everythin’ proper like, maistly because we’d lose the license otherwise.” Dugald picked up his father’s empty mug, “Same again?” Gruk shook his head and held out his hand,

“No ta, laddie. I’m keepin’ an eye on how much I’m haein’ richt noo, whit wi’ yer Ma an’ all.” Dugald ‘oh’d’ softly and put the mug back down,

“How is Mam these days onyway?” he asked, “I’m hopin’ that this whole situation isnae stressin’ her oot too much.” he added. Gruk snorted,

“Ach, she’s a’right. She’s just got her temper back again seein’ as she canna get comfy because the wean insists on sittin’ on her bladder a’ night.” he chuckled, “Yer sister’s roond every day an’ Sister Imraksdottir pops roond every sae often tae make sure everythin’s a’right.” Dugald smiled happily,

“I probably should pop o’er at some point if I can get the time off.” he noted, “Either o’ ye thought o’ names yet?” he asked. Gruk laughed,

“Yer Ma has some rather choice ones she’s usin’ richt noo, but aye we’ve got one picked oot either which way.” he leaned on the table, “We’re goin’ wi’ Dagrun if it’s a wee laddie and Isbeil if it’s another lassie.” Dugald nodded approvingly,

“Between you an’ me, I’d rather a wee brother.” he said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Sisters are a pain in the backside when they’re wee.” Gruk shook his head,

“T’be honest, wee brothers aren’t much better.” he replied in the same tone, just as the large form of Snorri arrived at the table. Gruk yelped as Snorri affectionately smacked him in the back of the head,

“I heard that.” he chuckled, “An’, fer the record, me an’ Ufgi weren’t that bad.” Gruk blustered for a moment,

“No’ that bad?” he retorted, “Who decided it wis a guid idea tae switch oot the block coffee wi’ coal one mornin’ and then who wis the one gettin’ intae trouble fer it?” he asked.

“Ach, we a’ got bawled at fer that one. But if we’re gonna play this little game, then who wis the one who decided it wis a guid idea tae try convincin’ Ufgi that there wis treasure in the bottom o’ an auld Kobold hole that he got stuck in fer seven hours?”

“At least I never went roon nickin’ stuff fi the shop flair an’ hidin’ it in a’ the wee nooks and crannies Da couldnae get tae.”

“Then there wis the time ye decided I wis goin’ aifter yer lassie and I needed tae be taught a lesson.”

“Well, ye were!”

“It’s called bein’ friendly.”

“Smackin’ a lassie on the backside is a wee bit mair than friendly, ye wee bampot.”

“... I’m bigger than you are.”

“Aw, shut it! Ye ken whit I meant.”

Dugald look between his father and uncle for a few moments then looked around the bar. Most of the patrons had stopped their own conversations and were watching the argument with increasing amusement, though one or two had started edging towards the door. Sighing heavily, Dugald stepped between the two older men and shoved them apart,

“A’right, enough!” he snapped, earning him a glower from both men, but the young artificer had had enough, “Da, why don’t you head on home? It’s gettin’ late and Ma really shouldnae even consider worrying in her state. He stared at his father until the older dwarf, snorted, glared at his brother some more and then stormed out of the pub. Certain that his father was out of earshot, Dugald rounded on his uncle,

“As fer you. Dinna go windin’ him up like that. Da’s stressed oot enough as is what wi’ Mam bein’ sae far along and Merri bein’ whaur she is.” Snorri sighed, closing his eyes guiltily,

“Aye lad, sorry. I got carried awa’ and, tae be honest, yer Da does make it rather too easy.” Dugald sighed in irritation,

“I ken he does, Moradin only knows Hilde, Merri an’ I a’ways took advantage o’ it tae, but now is really no’ the time.” Snorri nodded glumly,

“I’ll go roond an’ apologise in the mornin’. I’ll gie him some time tae cool off first.” he suggested. Dugald laid a hand on the older dwarf’s shoulder,

“Guid idea.” he said, then brought up his mug, “Think ye can gie’s a refill?” he asked. Snorri chuckled and ruffled his nephew’s hair,

“O’ course laddie. This one’s on me.” he replied, taking the mug and heading back up to the bar. Dugald sat back down in his seat with a relieved sigh, watching as the rest of the patrons went back to their own conversations. He tuned them all out and pulled a small notebook from his tunic pocket and went straight to work sketching out a brooch design that had been requested by a Palace representative that morning. The young artificer had no idea what the occasion was, but work was work and it promised to pay extremely well.

~*~

Morag huffed as she was helped back up by a younger cleric, who beamed at the older woman. Sister Imraksdottir nodded approvingly,

“Well, at least we can say this one’s definitely very healthy” she chuckled, “How are ye holdin’ up in yersel’ Morag?” she asked, handing the younger cleric a bundle of sheets, which were quickly whisked away to be cleaned. Morag grumbled a little,

“I’m no’ too bad Sister, I jus’ wish this wee terror wid gie me some peace and quiet a’ready.” she replied with a somewhat weary chuckle, placing her hand lovingly on the generous bump that she had developed. The other woman laughed softly,

“Well at least this one is goin’ better than Merri did by this point.” she replied, “I still want tae keep a close eye on things though, especially what wi’ everythin’ else that’s going on.” she added. Morag sighed,

“Aye, I’m tryin’ no’ tae get too worried o’er everythin’ goin’ on richt noo, but that’s a load easier said than done.” Sister Imraksdottir sat on the bed next to Morag, laying a comforting hand on the other woman’s shoulder,

“I ken it’s no’ easy, especially since Merri’s still sae young, but she’s an awfie lot stronger than she looks.” Morag smiled and nodded,

“Oh aye, an’ she’s got some really guid friends wi’ her that will make sair she’s kept safe. T’be honest I halfway pity this Darkhide fellow, the wee woodlin’ lass is one ye dinna want tae cross.” Sister Imraksdottir hummed thoughtfully,

“We never really got a chance tae meet them a’ properly. Gi’en that they were a’ways jus’ passing through there wis never ony time tae sit and talk. Ragnarsson seemed tae like them though.” Morag nodded, shifting slightly to make herself more comfortable,

“Oh aye, they’re a right bunch o’ characters. It’s just a pity that things are sae tense between us and Toreguard richt noo, but here’s hoping that once Darkhide’s been gotten rid o’ that things settle doon.” she glared at the baby bump, “Almost mair than I wish this one wid settle doon fer just five minutes.” she grumbled. The cleric chuckled,

“I’ll go see if I can get ye somethin’ tae help.” she said, squeezing Morag’s shoulder gently before getting up and bustling into her office. Morag leaned her head back and closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle, despite the little one deciding her insides made for an excellent punching bag. She rubbed her hand over the bump and began to sing softly in Old Dwarven,

_“The sky is dark, and the hills are white, As the Storm King speeds from the north tonight And this is the song The Storm King sings, As over the world his cloak he flings. Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep He rustles his wings and gruffly sings, Sleep, little one, sleep.”_

She looked up as she heard the approaching footsteps of the Infirmary’s matron returning. She gratefully took the offered mug as the Sister sat back down again, “Did that one work as well as it did with the others?” she asked. Morag nodded,

“Aye I dinna ken whit it is aboot that auld lullaby, but it’s the only one a’ five o’ them ever went tae sleep tae. I suppose I’d better change that tae six noo.” she added with a smile, taking a sip of the beverage she had been handed an grimacing slightly at the taste. Sister Imraksdottir nodded,

“Ach, weans can be fickle like that,wasn’t that the one Gruk’s mam had tae teach ye when ye first had Alfie hame?” she asked. Morag swallowed down the rest of her potion and nodded,

“Aye, the ones ma ain mam taught me never really worked on him fer some reason. They worked a’right on the rest aside fi Merri though. I’m just takin’ nae chances wi’ this one.”

“Aye that’s probably fer the best.” The cleric sighed. She dusted off her robes as she stood, “I’d best get on wi’ the cleanin’. Ye gonnae be a’right tae see yersel’ oot?” she asked. Morag nodded as she pulled herself to her feet,

“Aye, I’ll be fine. You dad oan hen, I have ma ain work to get back tae.” she replied. Sister Imraksdottir smiled and waved the other woman off as she waddled out of the infirmary. That things were progressing smoothly despite the stresses of the current situation pleased the Matron greatly, Fangthane needed strong, healthy dwarves more than ever these days.

~*~

Birghe sighed, rolling her eyes,

“Ugri, can ye stop wi’ the mutterin’. It’s daein’ ma nut.” she said as patiently as she could manage. The other dwarf glanced up at his old friend, who was currently placing old scrolls and tomes back into storage,

“Sorry, but ye have tae admit that ye’re no’ happy wi’ whit’s been goin’ on either.” Birghe shook her head,

“Ye ken fine weel I’m no’ happy aboot it.” she replied, “But whingin’ is no’ gonna help.” Ugri snorted and crossed his arms over his chest,

“I still dinna ken why Raganarsson’s no’ daein’ his nut. We a’ ken auld Grimebeard’s no’ the right dwarf fer the position.” Birghe frowned as she turned around, quickly checking that the two of them were alone and no-one had overheard what the young cleric had said. Seeing no other people around, at least in the immediate area, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief before rounding on her friend,

“Ye askin’ tae get dragged intae his office?” she hissed, “The man is High Inquisitor noo mind, an’ he’s no’ exactly known fer bein’ gentle.” Ugri snorted again, a little more derisively,

“I just dinna understand why he ended up in the position, nor how Firetome wound up as Archlector fer that matter.” Birghe sighed softly,

“I’m no’ a’ that sure either. Apparently it’s a’ to dae wi’ politics an’ the way things are goin’ back in Toreguard.” she replied, “Folk are gettin’ right upset and angry aboot it an’ have had enough.” she shook her head sadly, “Everythin’s goin’ wrang richt noo and the higher-ups seem tae think that Firetome an’ Grimbeard will help tae sort this whole sorry mess oot.”

“But surely maist o’ them ken that their words are just gonna make things worse?” Ugri argued. Birghe chewed her lip nervously,

“Well, some o’ them seem tae think so.” She lowered her voice, “Ragnarsson is among them, but he’s in a tight spot wi’ that since he’s High Priest. If he says too much, it’s gonnae get him intae trouble since maist folk in general want somethin’ done aboot whit’s happened.” Ugri’s stance deflated a little as he considered the other dwarf’s words,

“Ach, I ken. Ma grandfolks have had plenty tae say aboot the matter o’ late.” he agreed, “They’re o’ the opinion o’ slammin’ the gates shut again.” Brighe shook her head,

“Ma folks are the same way. We had some extended family in Toreguard who moved back aifter that attack on the ironmongers so I can understand the sentiment.” she turned back to the scrolls and gathered them up again stopping suddenly. Ugri frowned and looked around the room in concern as he felt something… shift. Birghe looked over her shoulder at him, a somewhat frightened look on her face,

“Ye felt that right?” she asked. Ugri nodded, tugging nervously at his beard,

“Aye, I did.” he replied, “Whit wis that?” he asked. Birghe shook her head and put the scrolls back down as she poked her head out of the door to the storeroom. A group of older dwarves rushed past on their way back up to the main Cathedral, pausing momentarily as Brighe waved them down,

“Whit’s goin’ on?” she asked, noting that all four dwarves looked somewhat pale. A dwarf with a black beard shook his head,

“We’re no’ entirely sure.” he admitted, “A’ we ken is that there’s been a shift in power somewhaur, a big one.” Birghe frowned as she thought the words over, there were few situations where a shift in power would be so noticeable to so many clerics and many of them were fairly extreme and incredibly rare. She turned back to glance at Ugri, who nodded and swiftly followed after Birghe when she bolted up the corridors to the main Cathedral.

The main vestibule was crowded with dwarves when the two clerics finally reached the Cathedral. It seemed that every last cleric in the mountain had felt the shift in power and were now gathered in order to find out exactly what had happened.

“Ony idea whit the hell just happened?”

“What’s going on?”

“You felt it an’ a’?”

“Whit wis that?”

High Priest Ragnarsson frowned as he pounded down the corridor to the Archlector’s office. The Cathedral was full of confused and frightened dwarves, but even he wasn’t sure what in all the hells had just happened. He had done his best to calm the situation down, but as more clerics flocked into the main vestibule, he realised that the problem was clearly much bigger than he had initially thought. He suddenly skidded to a stop as he saw Firetome come marching up the corridor,

“Archlector, I wis just…” The other dwarf held up a calming hand,

“I felt the shift too Jotunn.” he said, “While I’m no’ entirely sure as tae what has happened, I am certain that there is nothin’ tae immediately worry aboot.” The High Priest grimaced,

“Well as much of a relief it is tae hear that, we’ve a Cathedral fu’ o’ worried clerics an’ acolytes tae try an’ convince.” he snipped. Firetome shook his head patiently,

“I wis on my way to the main vesitbule as it was.” he said, “I’m sure that, between the twa o’ us, we can calm things doon enough to get tae the bottom of what happened.” Ragnarsson took a deep, calming breath. As much as he disliked Firetome at times, the man did speak some wisdom occasionally. He nodded,

“Aye, of course Archlector.” he said, gesturing for the other dwarf to lead the way. The ginger-haired dwarf nodded and calmly walked up the corridor to the main vestibule, the High Priest quickly following at his heels.

When the two dwarves finally arrived back in the Cathedral, the room was full to capacity. Ragnarsson glanced nervously at the new Archlector as he took in the view momentarily, before frowning and gently tapping his staff on the floor,

“Come now Sons and Daughters o’ Moradin, be at ease.” he called, his voice carrying over the crowd of chattering dwarves, who immediately quietened as they turned to where the voice had come from. Smiling softly Archlector Firetome gestured for the assembled dwarves to be seated,

“I understand you’re a' frightened and confused. I wish tae, first, ease your minds.” he said once everyone was sitting down. He gestured grandly to the statue of Moradin behind him, “While there has indeed been a major shift in power, I can assure you all that no harm has come tae the Dwarf Father, or indeed the Earth Mother.” he added, nodding to the statue of Throff the stood in the opposite corner of the dais. A somewhat relieved sigh rushed through the crowd, though some still look anxious,

“Whit on Titan could cause such a shift though?” a young voice piped up. Kidri shifted nervously in her seat as the Archlector’s gaze fell on her. Ugri sent her a sharp glare, but she appeared not to notice it. Firetome smiled softly,

“A very good question young Toroksdottir.” he said in a fatherly tone, “Any number o’ things can cause power shifts among the Gods, many o’ which are simply beyond mortal ken.” he replied, “Whit I can assure ye o’, however, is that the Senior Clergy are goin’ tae look intae the matter tae make sure nothin’ mair sinister is occurrin’.” At this High Priest Ragnarsson stepped beside the Archlector,

“Fer the time bein’ though, I suggest ye a’ get back tae yer work and studies.” he said, not unkindly, “If ony o’ ye are still concerned, or have ony suggestions, please see either masel’ or Faither Dimzadsson in oor offices.” he glanced briefly in the direction of Birghe and Ufgi, who had turned to give one another dubious looks before turning to speak quietly to the new Archlector,

“‘Tis nay worry Jotunn. It’s no’ as though I’ve had much experience o’ this kind o’ thing either.” he chuckled, “Still, I had tae handle plenty o’ highly stressful situations as High Inquisitor, I just happened tae have a bigger audience tae deal wi’ this time roond.” Ragnarsson nodded,

“I can imagine.” he replied, “Is there onythin’ ye need me to dae richt noo?” he asked, “Only I get the feelin’ wee Gurrisdottir an’ Kiruksson want tae have a word.” he said, gesturing to where the two young clerics in question were hovering. Firetome glanced in their direction and nodded,

“Go see tae them,” he said, “Nae doobt they’re probably worried aboot young Gruksdottir.” he sighed. The High Priest nodded and strode off, speaking quietly to both younger dwarves and leading them both to his office. Once he was gone, Firetome snorted and glared in the direction the other dwarf had headed,

“Soft-hearted fool.” he muttered, shaking his head. He glanced up at the statue of Moradin briefly, frowned in frustration, turned on his heel and strode back to his own office.

~*~

Ionah growled in frustration at the dwarf on the other side of her scrying mirror,

“Ye let her get away?” she asked, trying desperately not to start shouting. The other dwarf chewed on his lip nervously,

“It’s no’ fer lack o’ trying Lady Copperheart.” he quavered, “She hesitated just lang enough tae see Starhammer die tae the ooze in the beer afore she even put the mug tae her lips.” Ionah glowered at him,

“That wis one thing, so why did those humans no’ get a haud o’ her?” she hissed. The Grimbeard on the other side of the scrying mirror shook his head,

“As far as I can tell, she somehow managed tae gie them the slip and ran right intae the Grove o’ Obad-Hai. The place closed up on them afore they could grab her.” Ionah took a deep breath to calm herself before she completely lost her temper,

“Well, that’s mair than a wee bit irritatin’.” she sighed, “But if I were you Garid, I’d find some way tae take care o’ her afore she can ruin everythin’ we’ve done so far.” The other dwarf snorted,

“I dinna ken if she’ll be able tae.” he replied, “I went tae make sair she hadnae come back tae the Temple and it had pretty much collapsed in on itsel’.” he retorted. At this Ionah raised an eyebrow,

“Really now?” she said in a low voice, “Well, perhaps our plans haven’t gone completely awry aifter all.” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, the bangles on her wrists glinting in the light provided by the nearby lamps. Garid smiled slightly,

“Gi’en the state o’ the place, I dinna think we have tae worry aboot the lassie comin’ back tae start pokin’ roond back here. It’s clearly been abandoned by Moradin, in her mind there’d be nae point comin’ back seein’ as she’s the last Moradhir left in the whole city.” Ionah clapped her hands together,

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, “I’d heard tell that there had been a shift in power, it looks like oor efforts are finally payin’ off.” She narrowed her eyes at the bedraggled Garid, “Jus’ make sure she either doesnae have a chance tae get back, or canna run her mooth if she does.” she warned. Garid snorted,

“If she’s as traumatised as I think she is, I think Darkhide’ll be mair than enough tae finish her off.” he retorted, “I dinna ken how you lot are gettin’ on wi’ yer end o’ things, but I wouldnae worry aboot the lassie fer noo.” Ionah sighed, leaning back in her chair,

“Well, we won’t ken how our efforts are payin’ aff until the mair sensitive folk start noticin’ somethin’s no’ quite right. Luckily yer great uncle has been approved as High Inquisitor an’ we’ve quashed a’ the ‘rumours’ aboot yer family.” Garid frowned in confusion,

“Then why worry aboot the lassie runnin’ her mooth?” he asked, “Surely if she does, ye can easily arrest her fer Treason?” Ionah sighed in irritation,

“Because we’d then need time tae totally discredit her in the eyes o’ the rest o’ the Council an’ the maist influential ones are o’ the opinion that she’s been Blessed by Moradin.” the woman shook her head, “While we can make a start on that now, I’d rather no’ have tae do a’ that work if it’s no’ needed.” she explained. Garid made a small ‘oh’ sound and nodded,

“A’right then, I’ll see if there’s onythin’ I can dae.” he said. Ionah smiled sweetly,

“That’s a’ we can ask Garid.” she said, dismissing the image from her end. Once the mirror was clear, the woman glowered at it before recalling herself and smoothing out the plaits in her hair and beard,

“Well, if the Dwarf-Faither is goin’ tae insist on protectin’ His wee pet, I might as well get a move on.” she muttered to herself. She gathered up her bag and exited her room, “Firik, I’m goin’ oot tae meet wi’ some o; the Council.” she called, “I’ll be back in time fer dinner.” The old butler appeared from a nearby doorway and bowed,

“Duly noted Lady Gilhadsson.” he said stoically, “Was there onything in particular ye fancied?” he asked. Ionah paused at the top of the stairway for a moment, thinking the question over,

“I will leave that decision with you Firik.” she finally replied, “I trust that you can keep everythin’ in order while I’m awa’?” she asked. The elderly dwarf bowed again,

“Of course ma Lady. Safe travels.” he replied, striding off towards the staff stairway into the kitchen. Ionah paid the older dwarf no more mind as she strode down the main stairway and out into her carriage. The footman bowed as he helped her in,

“Where to my Lady?” he asked politely as Ionah settled herself into her seat. The woman sniffed imperiously as she powdered her nose,

“To the Council Chambers.” she said airily. The footman bowed and hopped up beside the driver, relaying the Lady’s request. Ionah smiled to herself as the carriage started moving; as much of an inconvenience the girl was turning out to be, this was something she was very much looking forward to.

~*~

The Hammer and Anvil was buzzing with activity as the work day ended and the various smiths and miners arrived after a long day. Snorri, however, was more interested in the tales told by the few Ironguard that had decided to frequent the place.

“Aye, I heard that the whole bloody lot just up and left.”

“... marching on Toreguard last I heard.”

“... it’s no’ like there’s onyone o’ oors left there.”

“...rmy that size’ll end up tearing the whole place doon.”

“Guid bloody riddance.”

Eventually the burly dwarf had heard enough to tune out the rest of the conversations. While he was less than happy with what had happened, he didn’t know enough to want to get involved in some of the debates going around the barrooom. Besides, Meredith was still in Toreguarde, so his view on the matter was going to differ significantly from most of his patrons and he didn’t fancy scaring them off. He frowned in confusion as a tall dwarf clad in battered plate armour strode up to the bar and sat with a weary sigh. The older dwarf’s eyes widened as the newcomer took off his helmet to reveal a familiar face beneath a less than glossy black beard,

“Moradin’s beard! There’s a face I didn’t think I’d be seein’ fer another coupla years yet.” Snorri exclaimed, almost dropping the glass he had been cleaning. Yoruk chuckled as he placed his helmet on the bar,

“Were I a lesser Dwarf, I might almost be offended by that.” he quipped, “It’s guid tae see ye well though Snorri.” The barkeep grinned as he poured the newcomer a drink and slid it across the bard to him,

“I thought ye were supposed tae be huntin’ doon some dark wizard or other? Ye manage tae catch him then?” Yoruk knocked the drink back and sighed contentedly before he replied,

“That we were. We’d been followin’ some rumours around the continent fer a bit, but by the time we caught up tae where the fella wis supposed tae be, we were told he’d a’ready been taken care o’.” Snorri snickered a little,

“Ah someone beat yese tae the punch then? Ach well, better luck next time, eh?” Yoruk shrugged,

“I’m no’ complainin’. It got me hame earlier than expected.” He leaned on the bar and looked around, “Got tae admit, I’ve seen folks happier.” Snorri’s face fell slightly,

“When did ye get back?” he asked slowly. Yoruk grimaced slightly,

“Aboot twa hours ago.” he replied, “It took a bit fer us tae be let in though. We got told we’ll be gettin’ a full debrief and catch-up on current affairs in the mornin’ and that we might as well let oor hairs doon fer the evenin’.” He fixed the barkeep with a hard stare, “Whit’s goin’ on Snorri?” he asked firmly. The larger dwarf sighed heavily,

“If ye can haud on til closin’, I’ll tell ye as much as I’m able tae.” he replied wearily, “There’s a lot tae cover, laddie.” he added, seeing the incredulous look on the younger man’s face. Yoruk grumbled, but nodded,

“Aye, a’right. I suppose I have been gone fer a few years at this point, so I’ll let ye aff.'' The paladin settled into his seat and looked around the pub, “I suppose I’d better get tae findin’ a place tae live now I’m back.” he mused. Snorri shrugged his massive shoulders, having passed another patron his drinks,

“Ye can stay in ma spare hoose fer a bit if ye need. Ye might as well save yer pennies fer the weddin’.” Yoruk nodded and sent Snorri a grateful smile,

“If ye’re sure, I’d be right thankful.” he said, “And ye’re right, o’ course. I canna expect poor Gruk tae pay fer everythin’, as much as he might insist on daein’ just that.” Snorri nodded,

“Aye, I get the feelin’ I might want tae remind him that there’s other stuff he needs tae be concentratin’ on, but ye ken whit ma brother’s like.” Yoruk shrugged and took the new drink that the older dwarf had poured out for him,

“Seein’ as ye’re like tae be busy fer the next few hours, I’m gonna go talk tae the lads and lassies fi ma Chapter fer a bit.” he said. Snorri nodded,

“Aye lad, off ye go.” he said, already having to turn to his next customer. Yoruk hummed, but grabbed a tray and strode over to the table his friends were already crowded around, laughing uproariously about some joke or other. The younger dwarf briefly wondered where his Cleric friends were before he was quickly dragged into a heated debate.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snorri explains a little of what's been going on to a very surprised Yoruk. The High Priest of Moradin hears some disturbing news from Toreguarde and matters escalate as Low King Storri officially declares a Grudge against the city-state of Toreguarde. Warning for secondary character death applies here.

Snorri growled as he clanged the closing bell for the second time that night,

“A’right ye sorry lot. Oot!” he bellowed to the few remaining patrons who were drunkenly staggering to their feet and attempting to gather their things. Yoruk waited patiently in the back, he was beginning to wonder exactly what had happened in the last three years. He still hadn’t seen Birghe, Ugri, Kidri or even Meredith anywhere, and no-one had even brought his fiancee up. The bulky figure of Snorri eventually turned up, locking the door to the bar behind him. The ex-slayer glanced to Yoruk and jerked his head to the back door,

“C’mon, I’ll tak ye tae ma hoose fer the night then I kin explain whit’s goin’ on.” he stated. Yoruk followed the older dwarf out of the back door of the pub, nervously swinging his pack,

“I’ve heard bits and pieces.” he said slowly, “But it a’ sounds a bit…” he struggled to find the right word. Snorri snorted,

“Ridiculous, barmy, daft, really flippin’’ stupid? Tak’ yer pick lad.” he sighed, “It’s a’ a bit o’ mess if I’m honest.” the paladin shook his head,

“It certainly sounds like it.” he said, “How’s Merri holding up with all this anyway?” he asked. Snorri glanced over to the younger dwarf furtively, checked that there was no one else in the immediate vicinity and pulled the paladin closer,

“I dinna want tae overly worry ye or anythin’, but ye’re better hearin’ this fi me than maist o’ the folks at the Cathedral.” he said, his voice low, “Dinna panic, as far as I kin tell, Merri’s safe an’ well.” he said quickly at the alarmed look on Yoruk’s face. He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, “She’s… well, she’s o’er in Toreguarde facin’ aff against some necromancer maniac who’s been causin’ us a’ sorts o’ grief o’er the last few months.” he explained. Yoruk stopped walking and stared at Snorri,his eyes narrowing beneath his beard and moustache,

“Why did ye no’ tell me this when I first turned up?” he demanded, “I’ve been wonderin’ whaur in a’ the bloody hells she’s been a’ night!” Snorri growled and held his hands up,

“Keep yer voice doon.” he hissed, “Look, things are complicated richt noo. There’s been a few… incidents which mean that maist folks hae a lot tae say aboot Toreguarde at the minute.” he ran a hand down his face and beard, “Moradin’s undies, whaur dae I start?” he muttered. Yoruk grabbed the other man’s wrist and started walking again,

“How about from whenever it was that this whole thing started?” he suggested, “Skip o’er the borin’ bits... Just tell me whit’s been goin’ on and why Merri, of all the bloody dwarves under the mount, is involved.” Snorri sighed wearily as the two men finally made it to the steps leading up to Snorri’s front door.

“Aye, a’right.” he sighed wearily, fishing his keys out of his pocket and opening the front door. He let Yoruk into the hall first and quickly closed and locked the door behind him.

Yoruk was chivvied through to the kitchen before he could take his sabatons off, Snorri waving for him to sit down at the little table while the older dwarf took a dark bottle and a couple of glasses out of a cupboard. He placed the items on the table and sat down heavily,

“Right, tae cut an overly lang story short; Merri went aff tae Toreguarde on some mission or other from Moradin. Least that’s whit Gruk telt me, I never got a’ the details.” he said, “That wis aboot six or seven months aifter ye left fer Khull. We’d been havin’ trouble wi’ the Kobolds in tha mines fer a little bit afore that, but they started gettin’ bold and organised. Apparently there wis a leader cried Torg who wis leadin’ them. Merri came back tae Fangthane wi’ some friends, went doon the mines and tried tae tak this Torg oot. From whit I heard, they managed it, but some humie called Darkhide raised him intae some sort o’ undead abomonation. The kobold armies left us alone fer a bit aifter that, so we wernae gonna complain. So Merri an’ her pals go galavantin’ off again. There wis summit tae do wi’ tha portal tae the Hells under Toreguarde that they managed tae seal. Again, this is a’ stuff I’ve been telt second or third hand.” Yoruk poured himself a drink from the bottle and slid it across the table to Snorri,

“Looks like I’ll need tae go have a word wi’ some o’ the clergy then.” he noted, “I’m no’ entirely happy that she’s oot there gi’en some o’ the rumours I’ve been hearin’, but I’m no’ gonna argue wi’ Moradin aboot it.” Snorri barked out a short laugh,

“Well, if that were the end o’ it, I’d agree wi’ ye.” he said, “But I wasn’t done.” the burly dwarf poured himself a drink, knocked it back then poured himself a second,

“Tha kobolds started their attack again. Now they wernae quite as organised as before, but we were still hurtin’ from the last attacks. Then the rumours came doon the vein aboot some dwarves bein’ attacked by tha humies in Toreguarde.” Snorri took a breath, closed his eyes and downed his second drink, “At first, we didna think much o’ it. Drunken brawls happen a’ the time aifter a’ and folks get hurt. But then some o’ the folks that had been livin’ and workin’ in Toreguarde started appearin’ back here in Fangthane. All o’ them sayin’ the same thing; that they were no longer safe and that they were bein’ targeted, attacked and killed on the daily. Well, ye kin imagine how well that went down wi’ the folks back here.

“I imagine ye’ll get telt this again tomorrow, but tha Archlector up and died aboot three months ago. He didna name a successor so it’s taken until only twa weeks ago fer a new one tae be elected. Vanskleig’s been succeeded by ex-High Inquisitor Firetome, who wis a controversial enough choice, but his successor fer High Inquisitor is apparently auld Grimebeard.” Yoruk frowned, deeply disturbed by these revelations,

“Grimebeard?” he asked, “Ye canna mean auld Garl? I thought he’d been sent aff tae run as a local Inquisitor fer the Toreguarde Temple because half the Religious Council hates his guts.” Snorri shrugged,

“It’s whit I’ve been telt laddie. Accordin’ tae some o’ the rumours goin’ through the mount, he managed tae finagle the position by makin’ a few deals wi’ tha folks in the Merchants Guilds.” The older dwarf sighed heavily, “Apparently he’s been tellin’ folks he wis chased oot o’ Toreguarde an’ a’, but no’ by the humies. I’ve no’ heard who chased him oot yet, he’s probably jus’ blowin’ a load o’ hot air aboot tae make himsel’ seem mair important than he actually is.” Yoruk scoffed,

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” he said, “I’ve never met the man masel’, but I’ve heard plenty and nane o’ it was positive.” Snorri laughed again,

“Aye, same here. There’s one thing botherin’ me though.” he said, leaning on the table towards Yoruk, “Birghe said she asked Grimbeard how Merri wis, gi’en how bad things were gettin’ in Toreguarde, and he telt her that he wouldnae be surprised if tha lassie had a’ready been strung up as an example.” He quickly held a hand up as Yoruk went very pale under his beard, “We’ve a’ready been telt by Faither Ragnarsson that Merri is fine, she’s just a bit busy tryin’ tae stop this Darkhide fi destroyin’ Toreguarde then comin’ back here tae finish us off. Starhammer’s been in more or less daily contact since the attacks an’ keepin’ us updated.” Yoruk let out the breath he had been holding. He gestured for the bottle, shakily poured himself a drink and took a large swig,

“Go an’ gie me a heart attack, why don’t ye?” he wheezed, glaring at his host. Taking a few moments to calm himself down, the paladin cocked his head thoughtfully, “Wait, Grimbeard said that tae Birghe?” he asked. Snorri nodded, “Why wid he even suggest such a thing? It’s no’ like he wid be workin’ wi Merri on the regular if she’s daein’ Moradin’s work elsewhere, even if it is in the same city.”

“I dinna ken, laddie. Might just be a case o’ jealousy. From whit Gruk’s telt me an’ whit I’ve been hearin’ aroond the bar, Merri’s turnin’ out tae be a right powerful Cleric.” Snorri replied, his tone lightening with some measure of pride in his neice. Yoruk stroked his beard,

“Has she now?” he muttered, “I mean, I really shouldn’t be surprised, Merri did get ordained early and oot o’ season.” he said, waving his hand as he leaned back in his seat. Snorri barked out another laugh,

“That’s the spirit, lad. In tha meantime, let’s no’ worry oursel’s o’er nothin’.” he suggested, “Get yer things in the spare room fer tonight and we kin sort oot a’thing else in the mornin’.”

~*~

High Priest Ragnarsson frowned, drumming his fingers on his desk nervously. He checked the timekeeper in the far corner and stroked his beard fretfully. It had been two whole days since the other cleric’s last check-in, and Ragnarsson was getting worried. Shaking his head the sandy-haired dwarf finally gave in and strode over to his scrying mirror, taking out an old ring Starhammer had given him as a focus. The old cleric concentrated and reached out to the Toreguarde temple. He frowned as he felt the magic of the spell fail,

“That’s odd.” he murmured. He looked down at the ring in his hand, muttered a prayer, then tried again. Once again the spell failed to connect. A swell of unease settled in his stomach, it was one thing if Starhammer was simply too busy to reply, it was quite another for such a simple spell to fail to connect. He thought back to the shift in power, it had happened about two days ago now…. Quickly stuffing the ring back in his pocket, Ragnarsson turned to exit his office. He needed to bring this to Firetome’s attention immediately.

Something made the High Priest pause as he got to the door, his hand hovering over the handle. While Firetome was currently the Archlector and this was exactly the kind of thing that he was supposed to provide counsel for, Ragnarsson could not help but feel somewhere, deep in the pit of his soul, that going to Firetome about this was a bad idea. Heaving a sigh, Ragnarsson strode back over to his scrying mirror and cast again, concentrating, this time, on the temple of Galana in Toreguarde. His heart rate slowed as the ruddy face of Shiverstaff appeared before him, looking surprised,

“Ragnarsson.” he exclaimed, “I wisnae expectin’ any communication fi Fangthane gi’en everythin’ goin’ on o’er this way. Whit can I dae fer ye?” he asked. The High Priest of Moradin shook his head,

“I’ve been tryin' tae get a hold of Starhammer, but I cannae seem tae connect to the temple. I just wanted tae make sure Toreguarde hadn’t been wiped off the map.” he replied. Shiverstaff’s face fell,

“Ah… aye… aboot that…” the younger dwarf shifted uncomfortably, “I hate tae be the one tae have tae tell ye this but… Starhammer’s deid.” Ragnarsson’s heart fell through his stomach,

“When..?”

“From whit I’ve been telt, just the other day there. I wisnae telt until this mornin’ though, apparently the whole thing wis pretty suspicious, but there’s nae-one investigatin’ it since tha dwarven district wis more or less abandoned as it wis.”

“Ye heard onythin’ aboot one o’ the clerics fi the temple?” Ragnarsson quickly asked. Shiverstaff cocked his head,

“Ye mean wee Meredith? Aye, she’s alive, but the daft wee blithy’s gone aff wi’ the rest o’ her friends tae take care o’ Darkhide.” the Galanite shrugged, “I wid’ve counselled against tryin’ tae tak’ on the maist powerful necromancer we’ve seen in aboot a decade, but that wid just be the pot callin’ the kettle black.” Ragnarsson rubbed his fingers along his forehead with a sigh,

“An’ knowin’ the lassie, she wid’ve just up and ignored ye anyway.” he grumbled. He glanced up at Shiverstaff with a weary expression, “Ta fer the information, Shiverstaff. I suppose I’d better go an’ inform the High Council of whit’s happened. Hopefully they dinna decide tae do anythin’ stupid aboot it.” The other cleric pulled a face,

“I’d rather hope no’. I’m pretty comfortable here.” Ragnarsson nodded, waved his goodbye to the Galanite and turned the spell off. He sat heavily in his chair, running an anxious hand over his greying beard as he tried to work out how to explain this sorry mess to the High Council and the King without starting a new war.

~*~

Ionah hummed happily to herself as she powdered her nose. Darkhide had made his move on Toreguarde, according to Garid. This news, along with the fact that Moradin had apparently outright abandoned the city (and that little _ha'rak_ along with it) meant that, for the moment, there was little that could possibly ruin her day.

"Ma Lady, I apologise fer the interruption, but ye have a guest awaitin' ye in the front reception room." Came the timid voice of Ionah's personal maid, "Firik is already attending to him." She added. Ionah glanced to the small, metal-wrought timekeeper on her desk and frowned,

"Please inform ma guest that I will be with him in five minutes." She replied somewhat imperiously. The maid said nothing further, but the older woman heard the rustle of fabric as the girl (presumably) curtsied and left.

Ten minutes later, Ionah made her way into the front reception room,

“I do apologise fer the delay, I wasn’t expecting company today.” she stated, looking down at her dress and picking off a stray thread. The guest snorted,

“An’ I didnae expect tae have tae come round this way today, but here we are.” came the gruff tones of Captain Bloodvein. Ionah’s head jerked up at the sound of the man’s voice. She narrowed her eyes and huffed through her nose,

“Tae what do I owe the pleasure o’ yer visit, Captain?” she asked, her tone clipped and formal. Captain Bloodvein held out an envelope,

“I’ve been asked tae inform ye that there is to be a Council meetin’ this afternoon at half past the sixteenth hour.” he told her, “His Highness has requested that all members are tae attend due to the important nature of said meetin’.” he replied, his tone only just barely neutral. Ionah took the envelope and bobbed her head,

“I thank you for bringin’ this tae my attention, Captain. I will be sure tae arrive promptly.” she stated. The armoured dwarf bowed stiffly,

“Then I bid ye good day, Lady Copperheart.” he said, gathering up his helmet and making to leave the room. Ionah smirked as he passed,

“If ye happen tae see ma son on your travels, can you please inform him that I would very much like to see him. I believe some very late apologies are in order.” Captain Bloodvein paused at the door to the reception room, tensing at the ‘request’. With practised grace, he turned back to his late brother-in-law’s widow and inclined his head,

“I’ll be sure tae pass yer message along.” he said stiffly, before bowing again and striding out of the room as quickly as he could manage without upsetting the social niceties that Ionah was oh so fond of. Ionah immediately returned her attention to the envelope she had been handed, only vaguely waving the other dwarf off,

“Now, I wonder what all this could be about.” she muttered, tucking some of her permed, black hair behind her ear. The noblewoman quickly found a letter opener and slid it under the seal and took out the vellum within. Firik entered the reception room and coughed politely to let his mistress know he was there,

“Was there anything that you required presently, my lady?” he asked, his reedy voice echoing slightly off the marble walls and floor. Ionah simply gestured with her free hand,

“Inform Lord Silverhand that our normal club meetin’ is to be rescheduled.” she said, distracted, “I will call by his manor myself this afternoon to work out the details.”

“Was there anything else, ma’am?”

“No, Firik, that will be all fer now.”

“As my Lady wishes.” Firik bowed as deeply as his old bones would let him and he shuffled out of the room to do as he was bid. He caught sight of the House Matron and waved her down. The plump dwarven woman paused in her trek down towards the kitchen,

“Aye, Firik, whit can I dae fer ye?” she asked, wiping her hands on the front of her pinnie. The elderly butler hushed her and led her over to a corner near the stairs leading up to the first floor,

“If you can, please send word to Master Yoruk that it appears his mother is aware of his return to Fangthane.” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Och, no. The last thing the poor laddie needs is her ladyship breathin’ doon his neck again.” she groaned, “I’ll try ma best, Firik, but we’re a wee bit short on staff richt noo.” Firik patted the woman on the arm,

“Just do your best, Ellie. I will attempt to keep my Lady distracted fer as long as possible in the meantime.” The younger dwarf nodded,

“Understood.” she sighed, “Was there onythin’ else?”

“No Ellie, that was all.” Firik shuffled off to complete the task he had been set, while Ellie watched him go with a mildly concerned expression. The matron shook her head and carried on down to the kitchens, already working out who she could spare to send down to the local Moradhir Guard Chapter House.

~*~

The Council Chamber was in an uproar. Various cliques of dwarves sat arguing over the latest news that had just been broken, while others simply sat in shock, while yet others shouted various curses and obscenities. King Storri frowned and looked over to his personal guard, who nodded and banged the butt of his hammer on the floor,

“A’right, that’s enough!” he commanded, “Tha king wishes tae speak!” The room quietened down, though not nearly as quickly as either dwarf would have liked. King Storri waited until everyone had stopped talking or yelling before he rose to his feet and stared down at High Inquisitor Grimbeard,

“These are incredibly serious accusations to bring to the Council’s attention, High Inquisitor.” he stated, “Have ye any proof, or is all this merely speculation?” he asked. Garl Grimbeard looked up at his king and bowed deeply,

“The accusations concerning the murder of High Priest Starhammer are, at this juncture, mostly speculative. However, all of the remaining staff of the Temple within Toreguarde’s walls had a’ready returned to Fangthane at the time that Starhammer had been murdered. The other accusations, however…” the lanky dwarf paused for a few moments to gather himself, “I apologise, yer Highness, but the memories of what that... lassie did tae ma family haunt me still.” he finished, his voice strained. High Priest Ragnarsson was immediately on his feet, his face flushed with anger,

“And what proof have ye even brought tae sustain such... nonsense?!” he demanded, “That ‘lassie’ as ye called her, has saved oor world at least twice over if the rumours are anythin’ tae go by!” High Inquisitor Grimbeard simply shook his head,

“I dinna deny any o’ that at all, High Priest.” he retorted calmly, “However, I witnessed what Gruksdottir did tae ma family wi’ ma ain eyes and I will be mair than happy tae reiterate such under a Zone o’ Truth if I must.” he sighed. Ragnarsson felt a hand push him back into his seat,

“Come now, Ragnarsson, that’s enough.” Archlector Firetome soothed, “I want to believe that this is all some huge misunderstanding as badly as you, but unless Gruksdottir herself can refute these allegations…” Ragnarsson growled, glaring at the fiery-haired dwarf sitting next to him,

“Surely ye dinna believe a word o’ whit this man is sayin’?” Firetome quirked an eyebrow,

“In case you have forgotten, my friend, I was an Inquisitor myself. I can assure you that he is, indeed, speaking the truth.” The High Priest of Moradin sagged in his seat and buried his hands in his face. In the meantime, Firetome watched as King Storri mulled over what High Inquisitor Grimbeard had said. Eventually the young king sighed heavily and nodded,

“For the moment, we will need tae let these accusations stand. Should Cleric Gruksdottir return to Fangthane she will be given the opportunity to refute them before the Council.” he intoned, “Should Cleric Gruksdottir make an attempt to refute said allegations, High Inquisitor Grimbeard, you will need to provide evidence of your accusations before an official arrest can be made.” he added, narrowing his eyes at the man standing below him. Garl bowed deeply,

“Of course yer Highness. I will begin gathering the required evidence immediately.” he said reverently, “I only hope that we can find out why young Gruksdottir turned as she did and that we can rectify the situation as quickly as possible.” King Storri nodded and gestured for the older dwarf to return to his seat. He looked around the room, seeing the suffering beneath the stoic exteriors and hung his head,

“While the accusations against Gruksdottir are, indeed, important tae address, there is also the matter o’ our fair mountain’s relationship with Toreguarde tae discuss.” he said, holding up his hand to quell the next few minutes of shouting, “With the death of Olin Starhammer and the continued destruction o’ the dwarven quarter and harassment of our people, I believe that it is in Fangthane’s best interests tae withdraw all support from within Toreguarde and its surroundin’ territories.” There was a murmur amongst the stands, but no one seemed inclined to disagree. Taking a deep breath, the young king continued,

“As a result o’ the continued inaction of the Toreguarde Council tae safeguard those that lived and worked within their walls, I am also announcin’ that the city and her people are to hereby be officially written into the Fangthane Book o’ Grudges.” This earned more of a reaction. Several voices started cheering, while others yelled happily,

“Aboot bloody time!”

“Should hae done it years ago onyway!”

“Guid bloody riddance!”

The voices of dissent were drowned out by those who celebrated, but King Storri still noticed the few who merely got up and walked out of the room shaking their heads. He immediately called the session to a close and stalked out of the Council Chambers, trying to ignore the pained and disappointed stare of his son as he did.

~*~

Yoruk shied away from the stares of the people on the street as he made his way to the Cathedral of Kherillim. He didn’t know what was going on, but the huddled groups whispering to one another didn’t assuage the knot of fear in his stomach. He bounded up the stairs leading to the massive stone doors, only to pause as he noticed Gruk and Morag being quickly ushered inside by what appeared to be one of the senior clergy. The paladin noticed that both older dwarves appeared to be quite upset, so he waited until they were out of sight before he carried on up the stairs and into the vestibule of the massive structure.

The entryway into the Cathedral was a lot less busy than Yoruk was expecting. Normally the hall thronged with worshippers, acolytes and various clergy members, but now the paladin could actually make out the exquisite mosaic on the floor, which depicted the Hammer of Moradin and the Holy Anvil, and the various carvings in the pillars that surrounded him. It was also chillier than he remembered, though whether that was due to the lack of people, Yoruk wasn’t entirely sure. Shaking his head to free his mind of his maudlin thoughts, the paladin, instead, strode straight into the main chapel, where the huge statue of the Dwarf Father stood resting His hands on his hammer on a dais just behind the pulpit. The chapel, too, was relatively deserted. Only a few Clerics wandered the pews, cleaning the marble seats and mending some of the torn and battered cushions. Aside from some low murmuring chatter between one or two of the Clerics that were around, the chapel was completely silent.

Yoruk felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. Something wasn’t right here, the evening service was due to start in an hour or so and normally the whole cathedral, never mind the chapel, would be filled with Clerics and Acolytes getting ready, handing out books of Moradin to worshippers and directing people to the various clergy members if they had any questions or needed someone to talk to. As he looked around, Yoruk finally spotted a familiar mop of sandy hair cleaning the floor next to the pulpit.

Ugri glanced up at the sound of armoured feet approaching him. He blinked owlishly, his amber eyes widening as he recognised the paladin in front of him,

“Yoruk!” he exclaimed, “I didna think ye’d be back fer another twa years yet.” The black haired dwarf shook his head,

“I got back yesterday. Whit’s goin’ on Ugri? Isn’t there supposed to be a service in an hour?”

“Ye didna hear? It’s been cancelled.”

“Y’whit?” Ugri held up his hands to hush his friend as the other Clerics looked in their direction,

“Look, meet me in the refectory in five. I just need tae finish cleanin’ the floor then I’ll be right wi’ ye.” he said. The shorter dwarf lowered his voice, “I dinna ken whit’s whit exactly, but I ken there’s summat goin’ on. Jus’ dinna dae or say anythin’ daft until I’ve got a chance tae speak tae ye.” he whispered. Yoruk frowned, his brows furrowing deeply as he took in what his old friend was saying,

“A’right. I could dae wi’ a pint onyway.” he muttered. Ugri gave the paladin a tight smile,

“It’s guid tae see ye again though, Yoruk.” he said, quickly returning to his work, leaving the much taller dwarf to shake his head and leave the chapel, glancing up at the statue of Moradin briefly before shaking his head and wandering to the refectory for that pint.

~*~

High Priest Ragnarsson rubbed his fingers on his temple. How was he going to explain to the two middle aged dwarves in front of him that the new High Inquisitor was accusing their youngest daughter of not just Heresy against the Church, but the murder of one of his closest friends? The whole thing was absolutely ludicrous. He leaned back in his seat and sighed,

“I ken it’s gonna be hard tae hear this, but just as a reminder, I’m only the messenger here.” he said, looking over to Gruk pointedly. The smith ‘harrumphed’ slightly, crossing his arms over his chest,

“No promises.” he grunted, “Now come on, oot wi’ it. Whit’s goin’ on?” Ragnarsson rolled his eyes at Gruk’s statement, but he complied with the request,

“No doubt ye’ve heard aboot the goin’s on o’er in Toreguarde and heard tha rumours goin’ aboot. Moradin kens I’ve heard some right idiotic ones in the bars recently. I just wanted to set a few things straight.” Morag patted her generous tummy somewhat nervously,

“If ye could faither, we’d appreciate it.” she said, “I’m no’ usually one to pay only mind tae such fear-mongerin’ but…” she trailed off with a defeated sigh. Gruk gripped her arm and gave his wife what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The High Priest nodded,

“Well, ye’ll be glad tae hear that a’ the reports comin’ fi Toreguarde’s way indicate that Meredith is still alive and apparently well despite the army headed tae the city.” he said. The cleric held up a hand as Gruk opened his mouth to say something, “Unfortunately, there’s somethin’ else I need tae tell ye first.” Raganarsson couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the two dwarves sitting opposite him, “Our new High Inquisitor has just recently arrived fi Toreguarde and immediately called a session o’ the High Council.” The older dwarf paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and tugged at the sleeve of his robes nervously, “He’s… he’s basically stated that Meredith is a traitor to both the Church and Fangthane and that he’s holdin’ her responsible fer the deaths o’ about half his family and High Priest Starhammer.” The silence in the little room was deafening. Ragnarsson could only hear the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the distant chatter of others working elsewhere in the Cathedral.

It took almost a whole minute for Gruk to finally process what the cleric in front of him had just said (though Ragnarsson could have sworn it was almost half that). His eyebrows furrowed in confused anger,

“Ye mean tae tell me tha’ someone fi that _felspar swarf_ clan managed tae finagle his way intae one o’ the highest offices in tha Church? An’ not only tha’, but he’s accusing ma daughter o’ Heresy?!” he yelled, getting up from his seat. Morag grabbed her husband’s arm and yanked him back down into his seat,

“Sit yer arse doon afore ye dae summat silly, ye daft bugger.” she sighed. She looked over to the High Priest,

“I dinna ken, nor do I want tae, how the man got the position.” she said quietly, her voice quivering slightly as she tried to contain her own rage, “All I want tae ken is whit is goin’ tae happen tae ma little girl.” Ragnarsson shook his head and clasped his hands together in his lap,

“I wish I could tell ye, Mrs Ironforge.” he sighed, “At this point, I honestly dinna ken. High Inquisitor Grimbeard’s been asked tae gather whitever evidence he needs by tha High Council an’ Meredith is stuck in Toreguarde dealin’ wi’ Darkhide’s army.” Gruk snorted derisively,

“It doesnae matter, the whole thing sounds like a load o’ codswallop.” he growled, “Surely ye dinna believe a word comin’ fi that… that… _saag-filled beskur?!_ ”

“Gruk, mind yer language!” Morag snapped. Ragnarsson looked over to the smith with a sharp look,

“Of course I dinna.” he retorted, his voice low, “However, given whit’s been goin’ on in Toreguarde o’er the last month or so, there’re plenty o’ folk in the High Council who want someone tae tak’ the fall fer it all. Unfortunately, since Grimbeard obviously has summat against her, Meredith is the perfect scapegoat.” Gruk deflated as he slumped in his seat. He ran a tired hand down his face,

“So whit dae we do?” he asked. “I ken fer a fact that Merri’s no heretic, nor a murderer.” Morag squeezed her husband’s arm as they both looked plaintively at the High Priest. Ragnarsson looked back down at his hands,

“At this point, all we can really do is hope and pray that the truth wins oot.” he sighed, “I’ve nae doubt whatsoever that Meredith is completely innocent, it’s whether onyone else will take her testimony o’er a High Inquisitor’s, especially if Grimbeard can manage tae find some evidence tae back up his claims.” He shook his head morosely, “Fer the moment, I’m just hopin’ the lassie stays, if no’ in Toreguarde, then at least oot o’ Fangthane’s borders fer a bit.” Morag sighed,

“An’ here we were, hopin’ that since Yoruk is back in toon that we could make a start on those weddin’ plans.”

“Aye, I wis lookin’ forward tae tellin’ Merri the guid news.” Gruk grumbled, “I wis hopin’ it would gie her and her friends an excuse tae come visit once they’d taken care o’ Darkhide. Moradin knows we’ve no’ seen nor heard fi ony o’ them fer months.” The High Priest gave the smith a bitter smile,

“Sadly, the adventurin’ life does make it difficult tae keep in touch.” he noted, “I’ll dae ma best tae get a haud o’ Meredith as soon as possible fer ye and arrange a Scry so ye can at least talk tae her.”

“Thank you Faither, that wid be greatly appreciated.” Morag said, heaving herself to her feet and rocking her ankle to get some feeling back into it, “I suppose all we kin dae fer now is wait and see whit happens, aye?” she asked. Ragnarsson nodded, tugging at his beard absentmindedly,

“Aye. Unless Merri comes back tae the mount or High Inquisitor Grimbeard can get leave tae send someone tae get her, then there’s nowt we can dae fer now.” he confirmed. The High Priest rose from his seat, “In the meantime I’ll let ye ken whit’s whit as soon as I can.” Gruk pouted a little as he also stood and took Ragnarsson’s hand,

“Ta fer lettin’ us ken whit’s goin’ on. I’m no’ happy aboot it, but it’s better than hearin’ aboot it fifth hand.” he admitted. Ragnarsson shook the other man’s hand,

“Trust me, I dinna want tae be dealin’ wi’ this either.” he sighed, “Take care the pair o’ ye. Hopefully I’ll have some better news fer ye at some point.” He let go of Gruk’s hand, bowed and waved the husband and wife off as they finally left his office. Once they were gone, the High Priest of Moradin pulled out his Holy Symbol and stared at it for a moment before he gripped it tightly and bowed his head,

“Moradin, if ye can, make sure tha lassie doesnae dae anythin’ stupid.” he muttered, “I dinna ken whit it is ye have planned, but I’ hopin it a’ turns oot right.” His prayer finished, Ragnarsson looked up and glanced over to the timekeeper on his desk. He sighed,

“Might as well grab summat tae eat an’ get the night shift sorted oot.” The stocky dwarf grabbed his cloak and strode out towards the refectory, not noticing the shadowy figure watching him leave from a nearby corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Slayer thing was borrowed from Warhammer Fantasy (The DM liked the idea a lot). The Ex-Slayer thing was my own addition since about 90% of the available men of Fangthane became Slayers during the Demon War (long story involving the current king's father being a bit of an idiot) and the city-state wouldn't have survived if the king hadn't pardoned those that had survived the carnage and let them come home.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over in the city of Toreguarde, a young Inquisitor of Moradin has a difficult decision to make. Back in Fangthane, Yoruk catches up with his soon to be be in-laws while Ionah takes advantage of her social status to call in a favour. Warning for pregnancy partway through the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meredith has not slept since the battle with Darkhide, which had taken place the day before (and took place in-game), so she's a little low on her spells for the day.

Meredith heaved a sigh as she rocked back on her heels from her previously kneeling position and doused the candles on her travel shrine. Where normally, the recently ordained Inquisitor would feel the comforting presence of her God following her nightly prayers, this night there was nothing but an empty, hollow feeling in her chest. It seemed that now Darkhide had been utterly defeated, his plans ruined and his followers scattered to the winds, Moradin felt no need to maintain any sort of presence within Toreguarde at all.

The young dwarf glanced over to the timekeeper ticking on the right hand side wall, it was well past the second hour, and yet Meredith could not find it within herself to go to bed. Aside from the odd creak of the house settling and the occasional snort or snore from the other rooms, 23 Acacia Avenue was silent. Having packed the travel shrine away, Meredith wandered over to the window, sat at the desk just under it and stared out into the street below.

A group of humans and elves wandered down the street opposite, singing merrily as they drunkenly wound their way home, each of them clinging to at least two others. Clearly the celebrations of Darkhide’s defeat had carried on for far longer than was strictly necessary. Not that the Cleric could blame them, that Toreguarde yet stood despite the ridiculously massive army that had assaulted it was miracle enough. Meredith’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, word would get back to Fangthane about the battle soon enough. While there were plenty within the Toreguarde army that had been mustered that had died, many, many more had been spared due to the actions of herself and her friends. No doubt there were those in Fangthane that would compare the numbers lost yesterday to those that the golden-capped mountain city lost over eleven years ago, and they would not be impressed. And even less so, when they realised that one of their own had helped to save the city that had ostracized, beaten and killed them within the last few months.

Meredith groaned and ran a hand down her face, thoughts like this were not going to help her get to bed any faster. Huffing irritably, she rummaged around the desk and pulled out her diary, a quill and an inkpot and started to write. Hopefully once she had written down what was bothering her, she could get at least a few hours sleep. After a few moments, however, the young dwarf was more awake than ever and scribbling frantically as she attempted to sort out her thoughts. Once she had stopped, she stared at the parchment,

 _Whit am I gonna dae?_ she thought, _I know I need tae get back, but whit aboot the others? If they kent why I need tae leave, they’re gonna follow me no matter whit I tell them._ Meredith ran a shaking hand down her face as she considered her options.

 _There’s no way around it. I need tae leave now. If I wait… No. I’m no’ gettin’ them involved in this. Elowyn kin curse me oot if I ever get a chance tae see her again._ Her mind made up, Meredith grabbed several sheafs of loose parchment, dipped her quill again and started writing.

Once she was finished, Meredith quickly scribbled something else in her diary and slammed it shut. She pulled out the necklace that her mother had given her as her first Holy Symbol when she had been accepted as an Acolyte,

 _Hopefully this’ll keep Elowyn and the others safe if they do decide tae be complete idiots and try tae follow me._ she thought, placing the necklace into the envelope addressed to Elowyn and sealing it. That task completed, the Inquisitor set about packing what she could easily carry into her pack, throwing her armour on over her nightclothes and quietly made her way down to the kitchen.

Meredith quickly checked the large room for any other people that might try to stop her. Seeing no one else around, she quickly laid the envelopes addressed to her friends at their usual places. She paused for a moment,

 _I jus’ hope ye kin a’ forgive me fer this._ she thought to herself. Heaving a sigh, the dwarf turned to make her way out of the front door, stifling a yelp of surprise when she came face to face with a tired draconic face peering at her.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Thornsnout asked, his blank eyes narrowing as he cocked his head. Meredith relaxed as she regarded the kobold in front of her,

“Never mind that, whit’re ye daein’ up?” she retorted. The kobold cleric crossed his arms and raised an eyeridge,

“You were not as quiet as you thought.” he replied smoothly, “Could hear armour clinking on the stairs.” He sniffed at the air and tilted his head towards the table, “You’re leaving.” he stated simply, tilting his head back to Meredith, who froze in her fidgeting. She eyed the little figure warily,

“Aye,” she confirmed slowly, “There’s summat I need tae take care o’ back in Fangthane, and I canna risk the others comin’ with.” Thornsnout tapped a claw on his chin thoughtfully,

“You cannot wait until everyone is awake?” he asked, “Lady Elowyn is going to be terribly upset that you left without saying anything.” Meredith clenched her fists with a growl,

“You don’t think I know that?” she hissed, “You know her as well as I. The minute I tell Elowyn whaur I’m goin’ an’ why, she’s gonnae insist on comin’.” The Inquisitor swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I.. I cannot and will not risk the lives o’ ma friends like that.” she stated as firmly as she could manage.

“You don’t want to risk her life.” Thornsnout retorted with a sigh. The kobold shook his head in mild disappointment, “I cannot stop you, and so I will not.” he said, “Kurtulmack knows, I can tell when an order has been sent from ‘On High’.” he added. Meredith deflated and sent the other Cleric a shaky smile,

“Thank you.” she said, “Jus’... make sure she an’ the others dinnae do anythin’ too stupid, aye?” Thornsnout gave the dwarf a deep bow,

“Of course. Might I suggest taking an alternative route other than the front door? You will likely avoid running into the Brotherhood of Cleaving better that way.” he said, pointing to the door at the far end of the kitchen. Meredith chuckled,

“No’ a bad idea.” she agreed. “Take care o’ each other.” she said, hefting her pack onto her shoulder and striding quickly across the kitchen to the half-hidden door at the other end. Thornsnout simply waved, cocking his head as he heard the creak of the floorboards from upstairs that alerted him to Mrs Higgins’ awakening. He heard the soft ‘click’ of the door to the sewers closing, huffed and busied himself with gathering some firewood so that Mrs Higgins could restoke the fireplace.

~*~

The early morning air was cold and damp as Meredith finally made it to a canal dock. The bargeman tipped his cap as the Inquisitor approached his boat,

“Mornin’. Up a bit early ain’t we?” he asked. Meredith shrugged as she took out her coin pouch,

“Been up earlier.” she stated, “You got room fer a passenger tae Stonebridge?” she asked. The lanky man leaned over the top of the cabin,

“Oi, Gerald, we got room for a passenger?” he called. Another human male, this one short and stocky, popped his head up from where he had been stacking some crates,

“Can make some.” he called back, “Just the one?”

“Aye, got another dwarf that’s had enough by the look of her.” The lanky man shook his head and turned back to Meredith as Gerald nodded and got back to work with a mild grumble, “I’ve got some tea on the go if you fancy any. We’ve got about another hour or so before we set off.” Meredith nodded gratefully,

“Aye, thank ye. How much fer the trip an’ the tea?” she asked. The human cocked his head for a moment as he thought,

“You’re a Cleric right?” he asked, taking in the armour Meredith was wearing and the book of Moradin hanging from her belt. When Meredith nodded in confirmation he grinned,

“If you don’t mind patching up some of the men that’re loading the barge, that’ll be payment enough.” he said, “We had a bit of a… disagreement with some Brotherhood members about our prices a couple of days ago and some of the lads got more’n a bit roughed up.” Meredith pondered the request for a few moments.

“How many? I’ve got some healin’ tae spare, but no’ as much as I’d probably like.” she admitted. The bargeman tapped his finger on his chin,

“There are three that could probably do with some proper healing. The others can just be patched up.” he replied. Meredith nodded,

“Aye, a’right. I kin manage that.” she said. If I could get that tea first, though, that’d be grand, Mr..?” she trailed off. The human flushed a little as he took off his cap and bowed,

“I’m so sorry, I plum forgot me manners.” he said, “Eddie, ma’am, Eddie Walters.” he stood back upright and placed his cap on his head and eyed Meredith with a questioning look,

“Meredith Gruksdottir.” the Inquisitor replied with a bob of her own head. Eddie nodded,

“Right then, I’ll get you that cuppa, then I can take you to the lads that need the healing.” he said, gesturing for Meredith to follow him into the cabin.

~*~

A little over an hour later, Meredith was sitting in the Captain’s cabin while the barge sailed made its way through the canals that connected Toreguarde to the rest of Allansia. Gerald hopped down the stairs into the cramped space, a steaming mug in his hands,

“Cap asked me to get you some Bloc.” he said, handing the mug to Meredith. She took it gratefully,

“Thank you.” she said, taking a sip of the beverage. The human peered at her,

“Hang on a tick. Weren’t you with the group that went out to fight that huge army at the gates yesterday?” he asked. Meredith froze for a moment, eyeing the human warily,

“An’ whut if I was?” she asked slowly. Gerald frowned,

“Then I’m wondering why you’re even on your way to Stonebridge by yourself.” he said, “I mean, you’re a bloody hero for what you and your friends did.” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. Meredith shook her head,

“There’re a good few folk that wid disagree wi’ ye there.” she sighed, “Look, I ken ye’re grateful an’ all, but I could dae withoot the ‘hero’ stuff. It tends tae rub the wrang people the wrang way.” The ruddy face of the squat human fell,

“Yeah… I suppose it does.” he sighed, “It’s a damn shame too. I kinda get the feeling that Toreguarde still needs them, you know?” Meredith hummed as she took another swig of her coffee,

“The rest o’ ma friends are still in the city.” she pointed out, “They kin manage whitever else comes along.” At this moment the slim face of Eddie appeared in the doorway,

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna have to lock the door for a bit. Trying to get through the last lock and some idiot’s trying to stir up trouble.” he explained. Gerald snorted,

“I’ll be right up Captain.” he said. The dark-haired human turned to Meredith, “You good to lay low?” he asked. Meredith shrugged,

“No’ got much of a choice.” she pointed out, “If the folks causin’ trouble are who I think they are, I’m as well stayin’ oot o’ it anyway.” Eddie nodded,

“Hopefully it won’t take long to sort this all out. C’mon Gerald.” Meredith settled down into a chair that was in the corner of the little cabin, glanced up to make sure she couldn’t be seen from the window and pulled out a book from her pack. The mixture of the caffeine and anxiety over the Brotherhood causing trouble at the exits of the city kept her from being able to concentrate on what she was reading. The Inquisitor, instead, watched the window as loud and heavy footsteps paced around the far end of the barge. Though muffled, she could make out some of what was being said,

“...gers? Check… see if…”

“...need… ocked… lost key…”

Meredith held her breath as the heavy footsteps made their way up towards the cabin. She shrank back as far as she cold while a scarred face peered in the window. The brown eyes lingered on the shadows for a few moments, but eventually the human appeared to snort, shake his head and look away again,

“S’all clear boss!” a gruff voice called, “I think there’s only the one left anyway and she’s gonna be a bugger to catch.” Meredith let out the breath she was holding as the bulky male left, his footsteps tromping across to the other side of the barge and finally stopping as he got off. She sent a grateful prayer to Moradin, if He was even listening, as the barge smoothly sailed through the final lock.

~*~

Ionah glowered at the human man on the other side of her scrying mirror, who flinched back at the look,

“I’m sorry Lady Copperheart, I don’t know how she managed to slip past us.” he said, his voice quivering slightly, “Rest assured, I’ve got some mates in the Road Wardens on the lookout for her. If she’s managed to get out of the city, they’ll find her before long.” Ionah drummed her fingers on her desk,

“An’ if they canna find her?” she queried lightly, “While I do have a contingency plan in place, Lieutenant, it’s no use tae me if she gets back here afore High Inquisitor Grimbeard does.” Lieutenant Jabinzky ran a hand through his blonde hair, his nose wrinkling in frustration,

“Look, I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got.” he sniped, “If you want my lads to find her, they need to be subtle about it. Last thing we need is the attention of those do-gooder friends of hers.” Ionah rolled her eyes,

“From what I’ve heard from Lord Schreiber, ye shouldn’t need tae worry aboot them. Apparently they’re being sent off elsewhere at the behest o’ the Wizard’s Tower, so they’ll be oot o’ yer way soon enough.” The human grumbled,

“It’s a wonder none of them have been kicked out permanently yet.” he groused. Ionah snorted,

“I believe Lord Schreiber made mention o’ doin’ something tae take care of that particular issue.” she said, “Not that I care aboot yer petty human politicking, if ye want the money I’ve offered ye’d better find the girl afore she crosses the border.” The Lieutenant sighed and nodded,

“Understood. I’ll have the lads run a sweep on the roads between Toreguarde and Fangthane and have a word with the wardens in Stonebridge just in case she headed out that way. By your leave, Lady Copperheart.” The image in the mirror faded, leaving Ionah to snap the clasp closed as she glared out of the window of her carriage. The well-kept streets of Fangthane’s upper districts rumbled past, cleaners that were out clearing the roads of rubbish and people who were walking to and from various meetings, appointments and parties met her gaze. Huffing in annoyance, Ionah leaned back in her seat and called through the opening to the driver,

“Drop me by Lord Silverhand’s estate. I have something I need tae bring to his attention.” the footman looked over his shoulder,

“Now, ma Lady?” he asked nervously, “What aboot yer meetin’ wi’..?” he trailed off at the severe look in his mistress’ eye, “Of course ma Lady.” he said, looking over to the driver, who simply clicked his tongue and guided the ponies down a different street. Satisfied, Ionah settled back into her seat, stroking her glossy black beard thoughtfully. Clearly she needed another contingency if those under her were too incompetent to deal with one simple task. Snorting, the noblewoman took out a leather-bound notebook and scribbled a few notes as the carriage rounded another corner and through a set of finely-wrought iron gates.

~*~

Morag grinned as Yoruk clambered back down from the attic, a large crate filled to the brim in his arms,

“Ta fer gettin’ that doon fer me, son.” she said, “It saves Gruk or Snorri comin’ roond tae do it later.” Yoruk shook his head as he laid the crate on the floor and stretched,

“It wis nae bother, Morag.” he replied, “I’ve nowt else to do the day, so I might as well make masel’ useful.” The heavily pregnant dwarf chuckled and patted her stomach,

“Still, yer help is appreciated.” she acknowledged. Morag knelt and started rummaging through the things in the crate, beaming as she pulled out some old blankets, clothes and other sundries,

“Och, I’ve no’ seen these since Merri wis still a tottie wee bairn.” she sighed, “I forgot how wee she wis when we finally got her hame.” she added wistfully. Yoruk leant down and picked out a battered looking and patched up kobold stuffed toy. The stitching was coming loose in places and some of the stuffing had been previously pulled out, leaving the head to flop to one side as the paladin turned it over in his hands.

“This little fella could use some patchin’ up.” he noted. Morag looked up, and smiled tightly as she saw what Yoruk had in his hands,

“I made him fer Alfie originally, but Merri wis the only one that actually took tae it.” she said, “She insisted on takin’ it everywhere wi’ her.” Yoruk frowned in concern as the older dwarf sniffled, kneeling and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Morag tried to wave the paladin off,

“I’m a’right… I jus’...” she hiccoughed as the tears found their way down her cheeks despite her best efforts, “Och, this is ridiculous.” she muttered as she wiped at her eyes. Yoruk sighed,

“It’s no’ ridiculous, Morag.” he said, “Let’s go an’ get oursel’s a cuppa and get back tae this later.” he suggested, helping his mother-in-law to her feet. Morag sighed shakily,

“I suppose so.” she agreed, “I’m sorry but seein’ a’ these auld things… I jus’ wish I kent ma wee girl wis a’right.” Yoruk grimaced at the woman’s words,

“I’m sair she’s fine. Merri’s a resourceful lass an’ it’s no’ like she’s a’ by hersel’. Ye telt me yersel’, she’s got friends wi’ her an’ they’ll keep her right.” Morag nodded, finally finding a handkerchief and blowing her nose as she sat down at the kitchen table,

“Ach, ye’re right.” she said, wiping at her eyes some more, “Merri’s no’ such a wee lassie onymore an’ she’s proven time and again that she kin tak’ care o’ hersel’ just fine.” Yoruk snorted in amusement,

“I’ll need tae disagree wi’ the ‘no’ sae wee’ part.” he said, earning the paladin a chuckle in response,

“It’s just as weel she’s no’ here tae tell ye aff fer that kind o’ comment, mister.” Morag half-scolded, “Merri has mellowed oot a bit, but no’ by that much.” Yoruk laughed as he filled the kettle and placed it over the fire,

“She kin give as guid as she gets, ye ken.” he retorted. The dark-haired dwarf gave the fire a good prod, then turned his attention to looking out some mugs, “I’m sair Merri will be in touch once things calm doon a bit an’ she’s gotten o’er the hangover fi a’ the celebrations that are no doubt goin’ on back in Toreguarde now that this Darkhide idiot’s been dealt wi’.” Morag nodded slowly,

“Aye, I suppose ye’re right.” she sighed, “I jus’ hope we hear from her sooner rather than later. I dinna want her tae be caught entirely off-guard wi’ what’s going on.” Yoruk hummed as he finished sorting out the mugs, leaning against the counter as he waited for the kettle to come to a boil,

“We’ve got some time afore we need tae worry over-much, I think. Fi whit I’ve heard doon the shaft Grimbeard’s awa’ tae get some evidence tae support his allegations an’ it’s probably gonnae take a while.” 

“Well that’s somethin’ at least.” Morag grumbled, “Still, if I’ve no’ heard from her in a week, I’m gonna go twist someone’s arm tae get a haud o’ her.” The dark-haired paladin smirked, crossing his arms,

“I’ll make sure tae be ootside the mountain at that point.” he said with a slight laugh, “If it comes tae that I’d really no’ want tae be in Merri’s shoes.”

“Now whitever gies ye that idea?” Morag asked, feigning innocence. She laughed as Yoruk simply made a face at the comment. The paladin simply shook his head as the kettle whistled and turned his attention to making the tea he had offered.

~*~

Lord Lormet Silverhand bowed politely as the relatively lithe dwarven woman entered his front reception room, his butler quietly closing the door after her. The older dwarf straightened and gestured to a comfortable chair sitting next to the fireplace,

“Please, make yersel’ comfortable.” he offered, wandering over to a cabinet next to the door, “Drink?” Ionah held up her hand politely as she sat down and smoothed out her dress,

“No, thank you fer the offer, Lord Silverhand, but I have another meeting to attend shortly.” The rotund man smiled broadly under his silvery beard,

“For you, ma lady, it’s just Lormet.” he said, pouring himself a drink from a small, bulbous bottle. He took a sip of the deep, red liquid and sighed contentedly. “Now, what can I do fer you?” Ionah drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair,

“I’m afraid tae say that we have a slight issue.” she said, her tone light, “Ma contacts in Toreguarde have just informed me that our dear wee Cleric has gone missin’.” Silverhand frowned as he strode across the room and laid a hand on the marble lintel,

“That’s a bit o’ an issue.” he muttered, picking up a small, polished brass ornament in his free hand and peering at it, “We got any guesses as tae where she might hae gone?” he asked, looking at the annoyed noblewoman out of the corner of his eye. Ionah stroked her moustache thoughtfully,

“While I do not have ony solid leads at the moment, gi’en the patrols o’ our human allies, I believe she may have gone tae Stonebridge by way o’ the canals.” she replied, “As much as I dinna like tae admit it, the lassie’s no’ stupid.” Lord Silverhand nodded slowly, a somewhat pleased look settling on his chiseled features,

“I have some contacts o’er in Stonebridge that I kin ask tae keep an eye oot fer her.” he said. Ionah smiled,

“Might ye be able to get them tae convince her tae stay put fer a while?” she asked, running a finger along her fan. Lord Silverhand placed the ornament back on the lintel and regarded the woman curiously,

“Perhaps, how long will ye need?”

“A week, mibbe two. It depends on how long High Inquisitor Grimbeard’s investigation takes.” The gentleman nodded,

“Aye, I think ma people kin manage that.” he said, finally making his way to the chair sitting opposite the one his guest was sitting in, “I might even be able tae convince them tae get the local Inquisitors tae arrest her when the High Inquisitor returns tae the mount. Provided I kin give them some… incentive.” Ionah nodded, her handsome features settling into a more thoughtful expression,

“I’m sure ma friends kin help wi’ that.” she said after a moment, “After all, we’d a’ prefer tae keep oursel’s right as much as possible.” Lord Silverhand nodded,

“Aye, it willnae do if our plans got scuppered now.” he agreed. “Wis there anything else ye needed, ma dear?” he asked. Ionah shook her head,

“No, that wis everythin’ fer now.” she said, pushing herself up and dusting the front of her dress down, “I appreciate ye takin’ the time tae have this wee chat, ma Lord.” Silverhand bowed,

“It was no trouble, Lady Copperheart. Ma door is always open fer ye.” he said. Ionah gave a short curtsy,

“Then I shall be in touch as soon as I hear from the High Inquisitor.” Lord Silverhand placed his glass on the table next to his chair, walked up beside the noblewoman and ghosted a kiss on her hand,

“Until then, ma Lady. Safe travels.” Ionah smiled again, nodded and swept out of the room, the butler from before escorting her back to her carriage.

~*~

Meredith started as the door to the cabin clicked open,

“Hey there, sleepyhead, need to use the kitchen down here so I can get us some lunch.” Gerald called cheerfully from the now brightly-lit doorway. The Inquisitor grumbled and tried to block out the light,

“Five more minutes” she grumbled, rolling onto her side in an attempt to go back to sleep. The stout human laughed as he quickly descended the stairs,

“I’d leave you be to sleep, gods knows you probably need it, but you’re in the way.” he pointed out. Meredith groaned, but pulled herself up, blinking blearily,

“Whit time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Gerald glanced up at the sky through the window,

“Can’t say for certain, but it’s gone noon.” he replied, picking up a sack of potatoes and a knife, “Captain said to let you sleep as long as possible, but the lads’re getting hungry and we’ve another three or four hours before we make it to Stonebridge yet.” Meredith nodded sleepily as she moved aside to let Gerald to get to the little stove in the corner,

“It’s nae bother, if ye dinna mind, I’m gonna find another spot tae settle doon in.” The dark-haired human nodded and pointed to a spot just to the right of the stairs,

“There should be a spot just underneath the stairs over there. I’ll give you a shake once the food’s done.” The still exhausted dwarf, mumbled a ‘thanks’, picked up her pack and stumbled over to the area Gerald had indicated and promptly fell asleep again.

It felt like she had only been asleep for five minutes before Meredith was shaken awake again, this time by the Captain of the barge,

“We’re ‘ere.” he said, “I made sure Gerald packed you some of the grub he made, just in case.” Meredith mumbled a ‘thanks’, yawning widely. Eddie helped the young dwarf gather her things while she re-gained her bearings and handed her the little package of baked potatoes before she headed up the stairs and into the chilly evening air. Stonebridge still bustled with activity, despite the darkness of the night starting to draw in. People were unloading the last of the day’s cargo at the docks or simply attempting to make their way to the local inns or taverns for a well-deserved pint or three. Meredith turned to the lanky human and held out her hand,

“Ta fer the lift. I really didna want tae tak’ ma chances on the road.” Eddie grinned as he firmly shook the dwarf’s hand,

“It was no problem.” he said, “Always happy to help those that need it. You going to be good from here on?” he asked, glancing over to another barge where some workers were glaring at Meredith as they finished unloading their cargo onto the dock. Meredith snorted,

“If anyone wants tae try onythin’ here, they’re askin’ fer mair than trouble.” she grunted, “I’ll be a’right.” Eddie nodded,

“Good. You make sure to take care of yourself, and hopefully we can get this whole Brotherhood mess sorted out sooner rather than later, yeah?” he retorted, giving the Inquisitor a sweeping bow and waving her off as Meredith finally stepped off the barge and onto the dock. She took a moment to breathe in the damp air, smiling as she finally felt Moradin’s touch in her breast once again. Feeling a little better about her situation, Meredith immediately made her way through the cobbled streets directly to the local Temple of Moradin, tugging her cloak slightly tighter around herself so her vestments didn’t attract any unwanted attention from the human dockers that were still eyeing her with suspicion.

~*~

High Priest Ragnarsson sighed as he plodded over to his desk to carry on the paperwork he had been looking through the day before. A runner had been sent to officially declare the Grudge to Toreguarde, and he needed to sort through any and all reports involving the city so they could be filed. He frowned

“That’s funny, I could hae sworn there was double that amount sat on ma desk last night.” he muttered, picking up some of the parchment and leafing through it, his expression growing more worried. He started at the knock on the door to his office,

“I’m sorry tae disturb yer peace Faither, but Faither Ugrimmsson wants a word.” the lilting voice of one of the church’s younger acolytes said, their voice somewhat muffled. Ragnarsson placed the parchment back on his desk,

“Send him in.” he stated, glancing at the timekeeper on the wall next to the door. He had been summoned to yet another Council meeting, but it wasn’t for another few hours. The door creaked as the stout form of the Church’s weapons master strode through it. Ragnarsson smiled,

“What kin I do fer ye Storri?” he asked, gesturing for the other man to take a seat. The heavier set dwarf snorted, shook his head and closed the door firmly behind him,

“Got onywhere mair quiet tae talk?” he asked gruffly, “Only I think there’s summat ye need tae hear aboot.” The High Priest frowned,

“Surely ye kin tell me here…” he trailed off as the scarred dwarf gave him a stern look,

“No. There’re folk that I really dinna want to be able tae listen intae this.” he growled. Ragnarsson nodded slowly,

“Aye, we kin use ma study then. It’s got mair’n a few wards on the door I kin activate.” he replied slowly. Umgrimmsson snorted,

“It’ll have tae do.” he groused. Ragnarsson nodded and led the other dwarf through a side door and into a cosy little room with a small desk, a couple of chairs next to the fireplace with a small table between them and a large cask of ale in one corner. Once the two men were inside, Ragnarsson took a small key out of his pocket and locked the door, muttering a prayer as he touched a few of the stones around the doorframe. Each of them lit up briefly with a warm, golden light before settling back into the cold grey of ordinary rock. He nodded, satisfied,

“There, that should avoid ony unwanted interruptions.” he said, turning to face the greying dwarf, “Now mind tellin’ whit in blazes ye’re oan aboot?” he asked. Father Umgrimmsson sighed, stroking at his beard nervously, sitting down in one of the chairs,

“There’s been some… chatter goin’ aboot the bar lately.” he said slowly, “Rumours mostly, which are tae be expected gi’en a’thing happenin’ right noo. Tha thing is, I’m beginnin’ tae suspect that there’s some truth tae some o’ them.” The High Priest frowned as he slowly sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace,

“Whit kind o’ chatter and whit kind o’ rumours?” he asked. Umgrimmsson sighed,

“Some folk are of a mind tae think that we didna get rid o’ a’ the cultists fi the Demon War and that some o’ them might hae snuck their way intae the Church as a way tae hide.” he replied, “Others are startin’ tae wonder if there’s aulder corruption afoot, I’ve been hearin’ tha name ‘Redhammer’ bein’ bandied aboot, though I’ve never heard tha context.” Ragnarsson frowned, stroking his beard and staring into the fireplace as he mulled over what his colleague had just told him,

“Folk are scared.” he surmised, “There’s been a tonne o’ upheaval in just the last few months and they’re lookin’ fer reasons tae explain whit’s been goin’ on.” The weapons master snorted,

“I’ve nae doubt aboot that.” he agreed, “I’m mair concerned that some o’ whit’s bein’ said is true, at the very least the stuff aboot tha cultists.” The High Priest hummed thoughtfully,

“I’ll hae a look intae the records Firetome made at the time, see if there is ony truth tae the ‘chatter’ as ye say.”

“An’ the stuff aboot tha Redhammers?”

“That’s much mair complicated.” The High Priest sighed, “I’ll hae a word wi’ Haneskeeper aboot it, find oot why folk’re even bringin’ them up.” Umgrimmsson frowned a little in confusion,

“Complicated, how?” he asked. Raganarsson shook his head,

“I need tae see Haneskeeper first. A’ I kin tell ye right now is that someone’s been in parts o’ tha library that they shouldnae have been.” The older dwarf grunted, crossing his arms across his chest,

“Canna say I’m happy wi’ that explanation, but I ken better than tae argue.” he gave Ragnarsson a stern look, “Jus’ be careful, I’m no’ certain whit’s goin’ on exactly, but someone’s oot tae cause trouble an’ we canna afford tae be reckless.” Ragnarsson snorted,

“Same goes fer you, Storri. Whoever’s goin’ roond bringin’ up the Redhammers willnae appreciate us stickin’ oor noses in.” Umgrimmsson sighed and nodded,

“Aye, I suppose ye’re right aboot that.” he muttered, “I’d best get on, ma next class is due tae start in a half hour.” The High Priest clasped his wrist,

“Then go wi’ Moradin’s Blessin’ ma friend. I’ll tell ye whit I’ve learnt as soon as I can.” Umgrimmsson nodded, briefly tightening his grip on the other dwarf’s wrist before letting go. The High Priest quickly dispelled the wards on the door and unlocked it, allowing the other dwarf to leave. Once Umgrimmsson was gone, Ragnarsson ran a weary hand over his face and down his beard. It seemed that everything had suddenly become a lot more complicated than he had anticipated. He glanced over to the small travel shrine he kept in this room, knelt and started to pray,

“Mighty Faither, see us kept sound and hale through these dark times.” he murmured, before getting up, dusting off his vestments and pouring a pint from the barrel in the corner. He sat in one of the chairs by the fire, stroking his beard as he thought long and hard about the circumstances that had led to the conversation he had just had.


End file.
